The Curse Of Love
by The Raven Dark Angel
Summary: What's it like to fall in love with a stuck-up, brooding Elf and have him finally love you back? The fireworks start when you find out you're bound to both the Marchwarden of Lorien and the Prince of Mirkwood. Which bond would you break? Haldir-OC-Legolas
1. In The World That Is Middle Earth

A/N: An AU from my other story, "Through Your Eyes". What would happen if Drusilla had never had her eye set on Draco Malfoy? I'm sorry if it sounds a little Mary-Sueish, but then I'm working on it. And get out tissues later in the story, people. This story WILL NOT HAVE A HAPPY ENDING. Oh, she won't die with Haldir, but still. 

For more about her, read "Through Your Eyes". 

P.S. A few comments here and there in this are from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and do not belong to me. 

"Ouch. OUCH! RON, GET OFF ME!!!" Came the sudden and indignant; albeit a little muffled snap. The topmost person of the human pileup, a fiery redhead, quickly scrabbled off, followed by the other three, two brunette girls; one with bushy hair that seemed to go off in all directions, and another with soft ringlets framing her face, her hair much darker than the other. Another was a boy with brilliant blue green eyes and incredibly messy hair that did not seem to listen to him. 

The boy with the ebony hair, Harry, peered curiously at the strange new surroundings of the place as he got up and dusted himself off, his hand automatically drawing his wand. How the hell did they land up in a forest? 

"By Merlin, Ron," Drusilla muttered, brushing herself off and wincing. She'd fallen flat on her butt, of all things. "How much do you weigh, a hundred and ninety pounds?" 

Ron was about to reply when Hermione frowned, stepping up to stand next to Harry, her own wand drawn and ready. "This place looks strange. Where are we?" 

And it was strange; the trees were an enchanting shade of gold that shimmered as they caught the light of the distant sun, and they were unnaturally tall, seeming to reach into the heavens. Beneath them, beautiful little flowers bloomed, and an unfamiliar but very pleasant scent hung in the air. The trees seemed to sing as the gentle wind breezed through them, and each of them felt a strange feeling of power and security radiating from it. 

It was strange, this place. Rather unnerving, too. It was so silent.

"We're not in Hogwarts anymore, you guys." Drusilla spoke up as she gazed around, stunned at the drastic change of events. This was most likely the Golden Wood, then. She was familiar with this place, but didn't exactly know where to place it. But one thing was for sure. They were in… "Middle Earth," she realized.

Her home. 

"What?" Ron gaped. 

"We're in Middle Earth." She pointed out, and a frown was on her face. How did they get to be here? Hermione just touched something and BOOM! They were in this strange place. 

"Of course!" Hermione realized, brightening considerably. "The silver mirror I touched was most likely a Portkey! That was what brought us here." 

"Whatever it is, we've definitely got to get out of here," Harry said, with surprising calmness. "Do you know how to get home, Dru?" 

"I think I might have an inkling," she said, a little uncertain, even as she reached into her regular Hogwarts robes and took out her own wand and glanced at her Elven pendant. How had her mother taught her to portal-jump? She froze, then looked back morosely at her three friends, who were staring at her hopefully. She hated disappointing them. "I-I don't really know." 

"I thought your mother came from here," Ron remarked as their faces fell. 

"She did, but she disowned me, remember?" she reminded him with a sigh, a shadow flitting in her eyes. "And I've never been to Middle Earth before." 

"Then how do you know this place is Middle Earth?" 

"Gut instinct. I just _know._ Do you see trees this big and in this color in our world?" her answer was exasperated. 

"Maybe they have them in China," Harry said helpfully. 

"Anywhere but China!" Drusilla shook her head, terrified and a little sick. "Those people can eat anything!" 

"Guys," Hermione said with forced calmness, her smile very strained. "Can we get back to the subject at hand here? How the hell do we get back from wherever we are?" 

That was the question of the moment, even as the four friends contemplated their current situation. 

"Maybe we should—" Ron started to say, then squeaked in fear and surprise at the sudden appearance of many drawn, sharp arrows pointing dangerously at them from all around. They froze. 

Startled that she couldn't hear them coming, Drusilla glanced up to see a strange person with long, platinum hair that reached beyond his shoulders dressed in some kind of silver-gray garb that seemed more elaborate than the other archers around him. He was well-built, a little larger, and seemingly more graceful and predatory than the archers around him. He must be the leader, from his posture and the arrogance in his aura. 

Smoothly and with an air of inborn elegance, he slipped in between the archers, his keen gray eyes raking over them in turn and finally locking on Drusilla's. His face was young, but his eyes, they were ancient, filled with the wisdom and shrewdness of the ages. She caught a breath despite herself as she caught a strange glimmer in those eyes. He was breathtaking, those eyes, that fair face with perfectly chiselled features that one anyone else would look gay, but not on him…he was an elf.

_Stop! _She snapped, annoyed at her blatant lack of control over her hormones where this strange elf was concerned. He was the epitome of desirable, but _he_ was most likely the person who commanded the archers to stick really pointy arrows in their faces. Some kind of welcome this was. 

"Somehow I really don't think they're Chinese," Hermione managed to murmur, a tremble of fear in her voice.

"You trespass in the Northern border of the Golden Wood," his voice was clear and mellifluous, but holding a ring of command within that hinted that he tolerated no nonsense from anyone. And obviously not from them. "Lothlorien does not extend its welcome to intruders." 

"We're not intruders," Harry spoke up quickly, a little intimidated from the arrows that were threatening to put new breathing holes in him. "We came here by accident." 

The Elf stared at them for a contemplative moment. "You are not from Middle-Earth." 

"Right. That's what he's been trying to tell you." Drusilla said, meeting his gaze head on. "We landed up here by accident."

"We mean no harm, I swear," Hermione added. "We just want to go home." 

A sudden sound to the right made the archers withdraw their arrows quickly, and the leader to snap his head in that direction, his posture stiff and wary. A strange sort of odor wafted to them a moment later, and boy was it foul. 

The leader seemed to recognize it immediately, drawing his own bow and arrow that looked a touch more intricate than the others'. 

"_Yrch!" _he spoke, his eyes narrowing. The sudden tension in the air made the four of them stiffen, too, and Drusilla wondered if what the Elf spoke earlier was some kind of swear word. 

"What is it?" she asked. 

"Orcs," he replied coldly. "You brought them to us." 

"I didn't bring anything to anyone," she snapped, feeling annoyed now. 

"Your cries did." It was only a moment when several disgusting, slobbering monsters crashed through, sharp, yellowed teeth filled with drool. Merlin, they were terrifying. Drusilla couldn't help but shudder at the sight. One look at Harry and the others showed that they were also afraid. They raised their wands immediately in a purely instinctive reaction, and saw that there were so many of them…the stench was overpowering. 

And so was their terror. 

The Elves moved like lightning, firing arrows faster than the eye could see and striking them down with long knives. The leader of the Elves had abandoned his bow and arrow, and had taken to killing them with twin knives that glinted in the sunlight. He wove between the grisly creatures, and she could only see the flash of his blades as he cut down the Orcs as if he was cutting grass. 

"Come on," Harry said urgently. "We've got to help them!" 

"How?" Ron's voice was a strangled squeak. This was even worse than spiders. 

"Spells, silly!" Hermione snapped as she stepped forward, trying to find an opening. "We'll hex them to tomorrow!"  
"We can use the Unforgivables on them," Drusilla said grimly, trying hard to remember the various deadly hexes she'd learnt during the Defense Against The Dark Arts lessons. "They're not human, anyway." 

The Orcs had spilled over to them, and in the midst of the sudden chaos, the four had been separated. Suddenly having to have to depend on herself now, Drusilla raised her wand and shouted, "Crucio!" 

There was a burst of light, and three Orcs had fallen to the ground, screaming and twitching in total agony before they stopped moving altogether. She looked down at their grotesque appearances, pleased at the results. "I got to have Mad Eye Moody to thank for this," she remarked, unaware that one was approaching her from behind, sword drawn to strike…

There was a sudden screech behind her that spun her around, and she came face to face with the monster. It took a moment for her to realize that it was already dead, stabbed through the back by the leader of the Elves. Momentarily shaken at the thought that she would've been killed if it were not been for him, she swallowed, struggling to keep her terror down. "Th-thanks." 

He nodded curtly, then moved with fluid grace as he decapitated another without even looking. "Watch yourself, lady. You might be skilled with magic spells, but your instincts need a lot of practice." 

She didn't even feel insulted as he turned away in the chaos and began taking on a few of those blasted creatures, and she tried to push away all thought of screaming and running away as fast as humanly possible. Faintly, she could see bright flashes of light and muffled commands of her friends, but couldn't exactly see them, what with all the Orcs and Elves fighting and everything. There was black liquid everywhere, and she grimaced as she watched an Elf cut open an Orc in a blink of an eye. Oh, this was going to be in her nightmares for a long time. These Orcs or whatever they were made Voldemort look like Mr. Manhunt. 

Fighting the intense urge to retch, she cursed a few more Orcs with the Crucio spell, then turned just in time to see a particularly gross-looking Orc coming from behind Elf Leader Guy, who was too preoccupied with the present two he was killing. 

She leveled her wand in his direction as he snapped their necks, caught his surprised expression—apparently, he thought she was going to kill him—and said the one curse she never wanted to use on any human being, "Aveda Kudavra!"

A sickly jet of green light issued from her wand, and the particular spell was so potent that the green flash killed not only that Orc, but also the next half dozen behind it. They did not scream, but simply dropped dead like flies. 

"Ooh." Drusilla was surprised at the spell, too. Now she knew why it was Voldemort's favorite curse on his enemies. By this time, the battle was over, and luckily there seemed to be no Elf casualties. Damn, they were fast. She looked over at the lead Elf. "Hey, favor returned. I don't owe you anything now." 

He acknowledged it with a faint nod, then seemed to come to a decision. "I will take you to Caras Galadhon. There, the Lady will decide what to do with you." With that, he turned sharply and swept away. 

"How about sending us home?" Ron asked as they followed him. At least there were no arrows pointed at them now. But the Lady, whoever it was, sounded vaguely frightening. He glanced around at his friends, and saw the apprehension on their faces. What was going to happen next? 

"I'll never get this stench off my robes," Hermione made a face. "Disgusting." 

"Tell me about it," Drusilla mumbled, walking next to her. "This really can't get any worse, can it?" 

"Snape might decide to land up here, too." Harry pointed out absently. "We're supposed to be in his detention class after all." 

"Stupid git." Ron cursed darkly, distracted from the current situation. "If he makes me scrub out the bedpans in the Hospital Wing by hand again…I mean, we were only discussing the finer points of the Enlargement Potion! It's not like we're planning to plant Stink Bombs in his classroom!" 

"You did it once, remember?" Hermione said pointedly. 

"And that was how long ago?" 

"Last year." 

"Honestly, 'Mione, do you keep a record of every little thing I do?" 

"What do you mean? If you weren't so childish-"

"What! Me, childish? Why, if it hadn't been for me…" 

They were at it again. Rolling her eyes, Drusilla made her way to Harry, eager to get away from the bickering couple. "Honestly, do they ever stop?" she asked. "It's getting really annoying." 

He smiled wryly. "You should know, Dru. They constantly need to quarrel. Justifies their reasons for making up with each other later." 

Drusilla made a face at the imagery. "Euu. Let's hope they've got broom closets in here, too." 

"Or libraries." He added with a faint smile. He patted his robe, then added, "I'm glad I've got my Invisibility Cloak here with me." 

She sighed. "I hope this Lady can help us get back home." 

***

It seemed like an eternity before they reached civilization. Elven civilization, that was. Drusilla's legs were aching from the long walk, but the view more than made up for it. Tiny lights were woven among the trees, giving the place an almost otherworldly look. Beautiful Elves clad in white seemed to float around, and there was soft singing everywhere. Soft fountains tinkled around them, sparkling like little jewels, and tranquility blanketed the entire place. 

This was what Drusilla had imagined Heaven to be like, and the word beautiful didn't even begin to do justice to the place. 

Intricate structures—she supposed they were homes for the Elves or something—were perched atop trees, glittering like diamonds, and there were winding steps next to the trees themselves, leading right to the top. Little Elven children were softly playing by themselves, and the four of them watched, awe-struck. 

"Bloody hell," Ron murmured, enchanted by the sight, and forgetting about what Hermione had said to him earlier. "'Mione, look at this place!" 

"It's so beautiful," she breathed, her eyes taking in the sights and sounds of the place, awe-struck. "Look at all the Elves, it's like no dirt can ever touch them." 

Harry and Ron shot Drusilla a meaningful look, and she glared at the two of them. "It's not my fault that I'm not dirt repellent, you know. I'm not THAT kind of Elf."

Elf Leader's—they didn't even know his name—voice cut into their conversation as they reached a particularly large tree with crystalline steps leading upward. Drusilla couldn't seem to be able to see the structure above properly—it was too bright, like the moon itself had come to stay there. "Here is the dwelling of the Lord and the Lady." 

He led them up the winding steps that seemed to stretch on forever, which was already a strain on the four of them, being unused to walking very long distances AND going up almost a thousand steps after that. 

At last they reached the top, huffing and feeling like their legs would give way. Harry had no chance to speak, however, as a sudden bright light almost blinded him. It was warm and filled with immense power, washing through him, and suddenly, he wasn't aching or tired any more. 

It was as if God had come. 

When he finally could see again, the image before him took his breath away. Two beings stood on the steps before them, and they seemed to be glowing. A handsome male elf with silver hair held the arm of a beautiful female Elf with hair like spun gold and falling to below her back. Automatically, his eyes lowered, the beauty, the majesty of the two before him was too intense, and he found that he could not look upon the female elf's face for long; she was power and beauty mixed into one, a celestial being…

A Goddess. 

We're really in Heaven, he thought dizzily, fighting the urge to fall to his knees in reverence. A quick glance at his friends and he saw that they were experiencing the same feelings as he. 

_You bring black blood with you into the Golden Wood, little one._ Drusilla started at the sudden voice in her mind. The voice, calm and filled with power beyond her wildest dream sounded everywhere and yet nowhere at the same time. She felt naked, her soul bared for the Lady to see, and she was afraid. 

The Lady knew who and what she was. 

Do not be afraid, Child of Darkness. She could almost feel the Lady smile. _The shadow has left your heart untouched. You have come for a purpose, and Lothlorien welcomes you._

A purpose? 

"The attack has left none of you hurt, I hope," her voice was like the purest of melodies, even as she gazed upon each of them in turn. No one said a thing; they were too awe-struck. The faintest of smiles was on her face, and she spoke once more. "You have come a long way from your home, and you must be weary. Go now to seek your rest, and we shall speak of your troubles later." 

***

Still in a daze, the four friends made no comment as two female Elf maidens showed them to their respective rooms. Drusilla's chambers were between Harry's and Hermione's, and Ron's was beside—three guesses as to where it was located—Hermione's. 

For the moment, all thoughts of going home were driven out of their minds as they beheld the peaceful beauty of the place and reflected upon their encounter with the Lord and the Lady earlier. 

Drusilla simply stood and gawked at the magnificence of the chambers. A large and elaborate bed was in the middle of the room, with heavy velvet draperies concealing the rest of the bed, a dresser fit for a royal, an ornate door leading to the bathroom, and there was an exquisite-looking balcony that overlooked a wonderful scenery. The ceiling was high, and there were mosaic paintings on them, all painted in soft, pastel colors that were very easy on the eyes. 

It was amazing. 

She went over to see the rest of their chambers, and it proved to be the same for the rest, and her friends were all pinching themselves to see if they had died and gone to heaven. 'Bloody hell,' was all Ron could say for the first ten minutes. 

"These rooms are fit for royals!" Hermione exclaimed, looking overwhelmed. 

The Elf maidens smiled slightly. "The Lord and the Lady requests your presence at the banquet held in your honor tonight. Please be prompt." 

"Banquet?" All four voices echoed blankly. 

*** 

"This is ridiculous," Drusilla said faintly, staring at herself in the gilded full-length mirror in an expression akin to pure terror. An Elf handmaiden was busy tending to her, dressing her in a flowing, sapphire blue gown with white and silver trimmings and a plunging neckline.

Hermione, who was entangled in a similar fate and had come over to her room, was dressed in a deep yellow gown with gilded embroidered patterns that brought out the color of her chocolate brown eyes, looked at her friend, then back at herself. "Those school robes hide too much. I didn't know I had a nice shape." 

"Didn't Ron tell you?" Drusilla asked curiously, her attention temporarily diverted from her current state of dress, or undress. That gown revealed more than it hid, and it was supposed to be flowing and a _gown, _for Merlin's sakes. What brain had she been thinking with when she agreed to wear the damn thing? 

She turned a faint pink. "We don't speak much when we're together. We uh—" 

"Don't tell me. Please." 

"You asked!" Came the exasperated reply. 

"Ouch." Drusilla winced a little as the handmaiden, a pretty thing called Sylina, wove intricate little gold and green leaves into her hair. Hermione's handmaiden, however, was having a much harder time, as her thick, bushy hair defied all laws of God and Man and refused to be put in place properly. 

"What did you do to your hair during the last three Yule Balls?" Drusilla wondered. Her hair had been unbelievably straight then, and beautiful, she had to add. 

"A spell or two," she gritted, her pretty face reddening from the pain. 

"Why can't you do it now?" 

"My wand's-well…it's with Ron." 

She didn't want to know exactly _why_ Hermione's wand could be with Ron, and she reached into her own gown and removed her wand. Hermione goggled at her, clearly astonished. "Why are you keeping your wand _there?_" 

"Do you see any pockets?" she replied pointedly. "What's the spell called?" 

Hermione thought for a moment, then said, "Perfecto Straightus."

"What kind of a spell is _that_?" she fought an urge to laugh; it was so ridiculous. 

Hermione glared at her. "I found it in Witches' Weekly, all right?" 

"All right, all right." She pointed her wand at her frizzy hair and said, "Perfecto Straightus." 

In a flash of blue light, Hermione's hair lay flat against her back, smooth and shiny, having no sign that it was once unruly and frizzy. 

"Wow." Drusilla said, making a note to remember this particularly useful spell. It could come in handy whenever she felt tired of the well-defined ringlets that had always been her trademark. 

"Thanks," Hermione said with a smile, admiring herself in the mirror, a dreamy look in her light brown eyes. "I wonder what Ron will say." 

"He'll think you're smashing," Drusilla told her. "Like what he'd done the last two times you two went to the Yule Ball together." She sighed, feeling a little envious of her friend. "At least you have someone to try to impress." 

Hermione glanced at her and smirked. "What about the Elf we met earlier?" 

"Which one?" she asked absently. 

"The leader, I think. The one that saved your life and vice versa."

Drusilla's heart skipped a beat as his face floated into her mind. He was certainly very attractive, all right. With that calm, cool, seemingly unattainable personality, those enchanting gray eyes, the face that seemed to be carved from marble and those perfect, perfect features, that amazing body…she shoved him out of her mind almost immediately, feeling a tell tale blush rise in her cheeks. She was certainly drawn to him all right.

"You're a nutter," she said, trying to cover up even as she turned away from her friend's knowing gaze. "I don't even know his name, and he behaves like he's got an arrow stuck in his ass. And besides, I don't think he'll be there, anyway. He seems more interested in Orcs than in social interactions."

"Don't be so sure, Dru." She had that annoyingly superior smile again. "I've seen the way he looks at you. And who knows? He might be interested enough to come." 

"Yeah, right." She scoffed, but inside, she was pleasantly surprised. About what, she didn't exactly know, but had a pretty good idea that it was about him.

Him. 

What was his name? She wondered. He was so aloof and set-apart, so much different from the rest of the other Elves. She wondered what he was like. _Don't even go there, _she told herself sternly. _You're going to go back really soon, and now is not the time to get into a relationship with an Elf, of all people, even if Middle-Earth is where you come from._

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and it opened to reveal Harry and Ron, both dressed in fine tunics. Harry's normally messy hair was neater now, and both boys looked fantastic. 

"Look at you girls!" Ron grinned when he saw them. "What a drastic change!" he gaped at Hermione. "'Mione, you straightened your hair!" 

"I did it for her," Drusilla said proudly. "Because she left her wand at your place." 

"Oh!" Ron turned a deep scarlet, then reached into his tunic, taking out a wand. "That's why we've come here for, actually. To return Hermione her wand." He handed it to her, still flushing. 

"And here I thought you boys came to see us," Drusilla drawled, delighting in the fact that Ron was embarrassed through and through. 

"We did," Harry spoke up before Ron could say anything. "But then we've got to go back. They aren't quite done with us yet. And I must say, you look quite beautiful." 

"I was thinking of a change in clothes," Drusilla's smile faded as she looked down at what she was wearing. Come to think of it, it would be absolutely horrible if she would have to step out in this. "I mean, I can't do this." she spoke again, her voice bordering on helplessness. "I'm really not used to dresses, and-and look at my breasts!" 

For a few moments, that was exactly what all three of her friends did. Then she flushed a deep red and turned away. Where was a trapdoor when you needed it? "I didn't mean it that way!" 

"Keep the dress, Dru." Harry nodded, deciding that their time for visitation was up. "You look great in it. And it's not too obscene, don't worry." 

He tugged Ron out of the door and shut it. 

***

"You are ready," Sylina smiled faintly as she did the finishing touches. It had taken longer than expected, what with spending all that time assuring her that the gown was standard for all the females in Lothlorien and it looked good on her. 

Away from her, Hermione was staring at her impatiently; her own handmaiden had already excused herself. "Don't look like that, Dru." She told her firmly. "You look like you're going to fight Voldemort or something." 

"I feel sick." 

"Honestly, what do you have to be afraid of? You look good!" 

She cast her reflection a dubious look as Sylina exited the room. "Huh." She turned to Hermione, already on to her next thought. "Ron is going to escort you?" 

The two of them had been informed earlier that they would be escorted down. By whom, they had no idea, but they figured that it would be the two boys. The boys were the only two people the girls knew anyway. 

"Yeah, I suppose so," Hermione said, a little hesitantly. "Ron didn't say anything about it, though." 

"Maybe he forgot," she suggested, hoping that Harry'd escort her down. Going to the banquet with any Elf from Lothlorien was unthinkable. 

Drusilla tried to take a step, but she accidentally stepped on the hem of her dress and stumbled. "Oh Merlin. This cannot possibly get any worse, can it?" 

Before an amused Hermione could answer, there was a soft knock on the door. 

Expecting Harry and Ron, Drusilla moved to answer it. "About time you c-" she stopped short and froze as she saw who was at the door. 

Oh no. 

The Elf from earlier today was standing there; he'd shed his silver-gray garments for a deep red robe, looking even more handsome than this morning. 

This cannot be happening, she thought numbly, taking in how good he looked and feeling her insides melt at the sight of him. 

He bowed slightly. "Good evening, Lady Drusilla." his voice was calm and measured. "I have come to escort you to the banquet." He extended his arm to her courteously. "Shall we?" 

Drusilla's face, Hermione noticed, was nothing short of totally petrified. 

Then she swung her frantic gaze to Hermione, who was now standing a little way behind her and grinning like a Cheshire cat. "You know, I really don't feel w-" she started to take a few steps back and made Hermione go with the Elf instead. But Hermione, sensing that there was definitely potential for something to go on there, put both hands on her friend's shoulders and gently shoved her in his direction. 

"Oh, go on, Dru. I'll wait for my own escort." She smirked, thoroughly entertained by the expression on her face. 

Drusilla took one step forward and tripped over her hem again, crudely losing her balance. Closing her eyes, she steeled herself for an up close and personal encounter with the hard floor, when a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, breaking the momentum of her fall. 

"You are not used to gowns, are you, milady?" came his amused voice in her ear. She flushed at his nearness and felt totally embarrassed. This was definitely getting worse every minute. Of all people, she had to be escorted by the Elf she was VERY attracted to. And of course, she had to show him that she was severely gown-challenged. 

"I don't normally wear gowns." She mumbled, trying desperately not to show how his nearness affected her ability to think properly. And it did not help that she was pressed against his chest. 

His deliciously broad, hard chest. 

Bad girl, bad. 

Turning even redder, she tried to get out of his grip. She had to do something before ...well, before. "Would you kindly let go of me?" 

He seemed surprised that he was still holding on to her, and gallantly released his hold. Was it her, or was she detecting a hint of embarrassment there? _Elf with an attitude problem looking embarrassed? _She thought, fighting an inane urge to laugh. "My apologies, Lady Drusilla, if I had been improper in any way." 

"It's quite all right," she quickly lifted the adjusted the front of her skirt a little so that it poofed out and would not get in her way. 

Quite shyly, she took his offered arm, feeling very much like a princess in all those fairy tale stories. This day had been a very strange one, all right. Then she remembered something. "How did you know my name?" 

He smiled faintly, a breathtaking sight, and Drusilla felt a strange fluttering in her heart. "The Lady Galadriel knows it, and she has spoken to me before I was requested to escort you down." 

"Oh." So that was how he knew. Then, working up her courage, she said, "But that's not fair. I don't even know your name." 

There was a slight pause. "My name is Haldir." 

Haldir, she thought, secretly delighted. Now she had a name to fit with the face. Maybe this night wouldn't be so bad after all. 

***

The dinner had ended, and a dance session was starting up. Apparently, Elves loved banquets and dances. Drusilla escaped to where her friends were standing as soon as she possibly could, having had quite enough of the Elf ladies going up to her, clearly intrigued by the fact that she'd entered the ballroom on the arm of the most desirable man in all of Lothlorien and the Captain of Lord Celeborn's guard. And from what she'd heard, this was the first time he'd ever put in an appearance. 

She felt strangely pleased at the revelation, but pressured as well. So many eyes had been on her, watching her every move as the ladies speculated among themselves as to how she managed to bring him here—she too had no idea whatsoever—and what kind of relationship they had (that had brought a faint blush to her cheeks). 

Haldir, fortunately, had not encouraged the rumours that were even now running rife, as he spoke with a few of the other male Elves over a glass of Elvish wine that Drusilla found nice and pleasant, having had four glasses of the stuff herself. 

Hermione grinned at her as she stood close to Ron. "So how was it, Dru?" 

"How was what?" 

"How was he?" she jabbed a finger in his direction discreetly, her face alight with interest. "I've heard many interesting things about you and him tonight." Her smile was suggestive, and Drusilla groaned, feeling a headache coming on. 

"There's nothing going on! He just escorted me down here, that's all. You saw it! You're mental, Hermione."

"Do you know his name?" Harry added curiously. 

"His name's Haldir." She said quickly, picking up one wine glass and downing its contents in one gulp, then choked as the liquid went down too fast. Oh, nothing was going right with her tonight. 

"Odd name." Ron remarked. Then he frowned at her in realization. "You FANCY him, don't you?" 

"She does." Hermione nodded matter-of-factly. 

"No!" Drusilla exclaimed, feeling very sure that the deep blush appearing yet again on her cheeks was giving her away. Then she wilted. "It's that obvious?" 

"To us, yeah, of course. To them, I don't know." Ron smirked, shrugging. 

A soft and beautiful melody begun from the Elven orchestra, and couples began filling the large dance floor. Hermione and Ron had exchanged a look only they understood and had moved out onto the dance floor, thoroughly submerged in their rosy little world of love. Honestly, it was so sweet it was nauseating. Drusilla almost preferred them when they were bickering. 

Harry had been swept out to the dance floor, too, by a strikingly beautiful female Elf with light brown hair. Drusilla sighed into her drink, trying not to glance up. It was bad enough being a wallflower without people staring at you, too. Even Haldir had his own dance partner, and she tried hard not to think too much about that. What business of hers was it, anyway? 

So far, none of the other Elves had come to ask her for a dance, and Drusilla felt that this night was rapidly going from bad to worse, knowing that she looked like a total idiot simply standing there when everyone had a partner and she had none. She could almost see the pitying looks on some of their faces, and she gritted her teeth. Why had she even come here in the first place? 

Steadfastly pinning her gaze to the ground, she tried to think about other, less embarrassing things—and trying to melt into the background so that no one would notice her—when a familiar, outstretched hand filled her vision. 

Startled, she looked up to see who it was, and was greeted by the sight of Haldir, a ghost of a smile touching his perfect features. "You do not have to be a wallflower tonight, milady. Would you like to dance?" 

Unable to believe what she was seeing, she stared at him in surprise, then managed to find her tongue. With a small swell of dismay, she said, "I-I don't really know how to dance." 

"Then I will teach you," he told her gently. "Take my hand." 

And she did, the silken, yet calloused touch of his warm hand sending little explosions up and down her spine. Haldir pulled her a little closer and slipped an arm around her waist as she rather awkwardly put her hand on his shoulder, the other hand resting tentatively in his palm. She stifled a small swell of pleasure as his fingers tightened over hers. She was so close to him, close enough to catch a little of his pleasant woodsy scent, and to wonder if his hair was as silky as it looked. 

It's not the pale moon that excites me   
That thrills and delights me, oh no   
It's just the nearness of you   
  
_It isn't your sweet conversation   
That brings this sensation, oh no   
It's just the nearness of you   
_

Haldir looked down at the young Elf in his arms and vaguely wondered if she could hear the harried pounding of his heart. But then again, he had taken all his years of training to properly conceal it, so maybe she couldn't. It had been a strange day for him, no doubt about it.

He had begun the day by taking selected members of his company to patrol the eastern side, acting upon the warning of the scout he'd sent out the day before. The Orcs had been stirring again, and was obviously planning another attack on the borders of Lothlorien. Upon preparation for the short battle that lay imminent before him, he was halfway through strategy talks with them when he heard a bang, unlike anything he'd heard before. 

Fearing that the Orcs could have acquired a new weapon, he stopped and signaled for them to be silent as they crept through the trees, intent on snaring the intruding Orcs before they had a chance to attack. For now, the element of surprise was their advantage. 

What he did not expect to see were four people, three mere mortals and one Elf. She was vastly unlike any Elf he'd ever seen and known, dressed in a strange black robe with an appalling short knee-length skirt beneath it. But it wasn't her attire that caught his attentions. Her hair, instead of being straight and long like any proper Elf, was curled into tightly coiled ringlets halfway through, framing her face and barely touching her shoulders. She was also a little short for normal Elven height, come to think of it, but she'd caught his eye. 

Then he had done something he'd never done before and would never ever do again. He had them surrounded, and he had hesitated. 

Hesitated because he was watching the girl he now knew as Drusilla, daughter of Fontaine. He had recovered quickly, of course, and his company merely thought that he was waiting for the right time, but he knew better. 

For the first time since he'd been made Captain, he'd failed. 

  
When you're in my arms and I feel you so close to me   
All my wildest dreams come true   
  
I need no soft lights to enchant me   
If you'll only grant me the right   
To hold you ever so tight   
And to feel in the night the nearness of you

But she was so young, a mere seventeen years in the world. There were so many things she did not know, so many things that had yet to taint the innocence he now beheld and was captivated by. 

She was so young, and she trembled under his hands. She had not known love. Or the closest thing to love, he supposed. She had never been bedded before, and he felt a strange feeling come over him at this revelation. He himself had taken lovers if he so wished, but somehow, in the end, he mourned not their absence when they parted, simply maybe because he had felt nothing for them at all, save for the physical desire he'd had for them. He had known the world, having lived close to four thousand years of age, he knew it's evils, it's goodness. 

But she did not. 

Her soul was shining through in her eyes, honest and open, and he briefly wondered how long it would take for her to cultivate the mask of coldness and impassivity he had worn as a second skin, to prevent others from seeing him for who he really was and to too get close. He had lost too many people, too many that he could have saved, and he would not risk to dare to love. 

But now…it all had become so different. 

Watching her, he wondered when she would ever close up. How many deaths of her loved ones this flower would see before it froze and became nothing more than an empty shell, devoid of love, of giving and receiving this gift freely. 

He wondered when the world would destroy her, and hoped that it never did. 

  
I need no soft lights to enchant me   
If you'll only grant me the right   
To hold you ever so tight   
And to feel in the night the nearness of you

Just let me have this night, he found himself thinking. _Let me have this night with her, to touch her innocence, to feel the light that had been extinguished from me so many ages ago. _

"Follow my lead," he said softly as she stumbled slightly for the umpteenth time, and he slowed down his speed considerably to allow her to catch up. She looked down and focused on the movement of their feet and conscientiously tried to learn, which was no easy feat, since she STILL was not used to the darned skirt getting entangled in her legs and tripping her over more often than not. 

"I don't think I'm cut out to be a lady after all," Drusilla admitted dryly, trying to grasp the concept behind this ballroom dance. And she had to say that she was getting better. Well, at least she stopped stepping on his toes, even though he was decent enough not to say anything about it. 

She felt his hand slip from hers, then felt his fingers under her chin. He gently raised her head to look at him. "Don't look down," he ordered quietly, and she nodded. Man, this was so much more difficult, and this time, she simply had to go by the rhythm of the song and his movement. 

And to trust Fate that she did not do something really embarrassing. 

And instead of taking her hand once more, he rested his hand on her waist and drew her closer to him yet again. Her breath caught in her throat; he was even more exquisite up close, and her stomach felt as if a thousand butterflies were waging war within her stomach at his closeness. He was close enough to touch, to lay her head on his strong shoulder…

But she barely knew him, and that was the problem. Sure, she admired him and was attracted to the Elf, but she didn't even know who he was, what he was really like, what he liked and hated, and for all she knew, he was old enough to be her ancestor or something. 

Her hand fluttered down to rest on his shoulder, tentatively at first, then relaxing as he flashed her the tiniest of smiles. It always seemed like he smiled for her, not to the male Elves he had been talking to, not throughout the feast, not at the female Elves he'd danced with, capturing the very essence of an icy demeanor with everyone else save for her. 

"You are simply exquisite today, milady," he said softly, his beautiful eyes never leaving hers at all, and Drusilla felt her heart pounding worse than ever, and she allowed herself to hope. Had his feelings extended beyond mere courtesy for her? 

She swallowed. No one had ever said that to her before. "Uh, uhm. Thanks. Lots. You don't look too bad yourself, too. Really."

He looked faintly amused at her babbling, and she quickly looked away, feeling really stupid. Hell, this guy was probably thousands of years old, and here she was, making a proper fool of herself instead of acting like any grown lady might. Why, oh why couldn't she just take that compliment in her stride and said something really witty instead of babbling like an idiot? Why did he have to affect her so much? 

Face burning, she tried to twist herself out of his grip. Honestly, the intensity of the feelings she was having now was beginning to scare her. She had barely been here for twenty-four hours, and here she was, being attracted to Haldir like iron to a high-powered magnet. It was scary. 

He refused to let go. "The song has not yet ended, milady." He leaned towards her and said softly, his warm breath tickling her ear and sending little tingles of pleasure skittering up and down her spine. "I fully intend to finish this melody with you. And perhaps you might be able to grace me with your presence for the next few dances." 

With me, she thought, feeling as if she was on cloud nine. _He _wanted to dance with _her_ some more, and that was something. Right? 

Don't think, a small voice told her. _Live in the moment. _

Allowing herself a small sigh, she relaxed against him, fully determined to enjoy tonight. Let tomorrow take care of itself.

They did not speak for a long while as they danced, needing no words to break the silence they both shared and experienced, the silent current of emotions running through them, of feelings that words failed to justify, ignoring consequences that would befall them should they succumb to their feelings. 

For now, it was just…them. A perfect moment in time where age, world, and social conditions did not matter. All that mattered were the burning embers of something precious called love between them. One fan would light them up, and one cold, bitter wind would forever kill it. Their feelings were vulnerable now, susceptible to change. And Haldir and Drusilla both knew that if they would choose the latter and walked away from it, things would go so much easier between them, and both would be spared of the grief and the heartache that would come when she could return home. 

But it was infinitely better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Was it?

In Haldir's experience, it was both true and false.

Because when one did not know love, one will not know heartache, and grief so pure and deadly, like a clear, jagged piece of glass that stabbed into you day after day, bleeding you slowly and painfully even as your life ebbed away before you. 

But if one did not know love, how would he know the simple bliss of having someone love you with all their heart, and you them? How would he know the sheer joy of being one and making precious, precious love with your soul mate? How would he know the infinite joy of sharing the beauty of the sunset and sunrise with his lover? The gentle kisses often exchanged between each other that made both soar to the heavens? Of having someone to lean on and to whisper sweet promises in your ear when your heart was broken? 

But he did not know love. He knew its friend lust by heart, but not love. It was never love. It always seemed to elude him, and try as he might, he could not reach it, could not grasp it. It dangled high out of reach, and along the way, he despaired, and gave up all hope of finding it entirely. 

But now, it had found him. Found him using the most unlikely person ever. A mere child of seventeen. A mere, Elven child. But when one had lost touch with love entirely, there was a question of whether he could still recognize it, and welcome it to his home, his heart. Could he do that? 

After a few thousand years of not being loved, could he still find it within him to succumb to its call and let it work its magic on both him and the person who was the least compatible but the most suited for him? 

Part 2: Choices. 

The night was over, and the morning dawned cool and fresh. Feeling acutely uncomfortable and fidgety under the too tight green dress, Drusilla wondered why the Lady had requested her presence so early in her morning. Led by another Elf maiden and Sylina—who practically had to force her into that cursed dress earlier that morning—she let herself admire the surroundings to occupy herself. Elf handmaidens really did not speak much. 

Stumbling over her dress for the umpteenth time, she growled under her breath and hitched the annoying things up, wondering how the hell did those Elves manage not to trip over the hem _and_ look like they're floating at the same time. They were so graceful compared to her clumsy footsteps and awkward movements, and for the first time, she wondered briefly if she was even of their kind. She possessed none of their qualities: they had an otherworldly beauty to them and never seemed to get dirty, she was neither. They were confident and sure of themselves and even looked graceful when they stopped to chat with other Elves, and she was nothing but a crude piece of work. 

The two Elf maidens suddenly halted in front of her, forcing her to stop immediately or risk running into them. Thankfully, she stopped just in time, then looked at them quizzically. "Wha—"

They extended a hand in the direction of a particular stone garden. It seemed a little darker here, more ominous and seemingly weighed down by magic that made her look insignificant. And it seemed that not much sunlight touched this place. 

"The Lady Galadriel awaits you within, Lady Drusilla," they spoke, as elegant as ever. 

"Uh, thanks." Drusilla replied, not really knowing what to say to that. 

Not knowing quite how to go about it, she hesitated a little before deciding to step inside. Turning a corner, she felt the glow of power before she even saw the Lady Galadriel. 

Dressed in the same flowing white gown as before, Drusilla, once again, could not help but wonder if she was a deity incarnate, or even a star goddess for that matter. 

The vision looked up from a stone pedestal that looked like a birdbath, and Drusilla immediately felt like she could not keep eye contact, simply because Lady Galadriel made her feel so small and miniscule, like what an ant was to a human being. 

"I trust that you slept well," she began, her voice rich with hidden power and knowledge beyond her wildest dreams. Even Albus Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard in her world and the well-loved Headmaster of Hogwarts, didn't feel like anything compared to her. 

"Y-yes." 

The Lady began filling a silver pitcher with water from a nearby fountain, her movements smooth and fluid, as if she'd done this many times before. "So much has changed in this world." She spoke, her voice grim. "The Ring of Power is on its way here, and the shadow of Mordor falls upon this fair land that is even now fading away, as with the Age of the Elves." 

Huh? Drusilla did not understand half the words the Lady spoke, but it sounded sad and mournful. She said nothing. 

"The darkness of Mordor spreads across the lands of Middle-Earth, and we are fading away." She paused and looked straight at her. "Yet, the Valar has seen fit to return you here, Drusilla, daughter of Fontaine, and to bring your friends along with you." 

"I don't belong here," Drusilla said slowly. "My mother did." 

"You are of Middle Earth, you cannot deny it. You feel something for this place, do you not?" the Lady queried sagely. "The Fates have sent you here for a purpose, that much I can foresee. Whether you contribute towards the dark or the light, I know not." 

"But all I want is to go back home," she replied, growing more worried by the moment. "I have my O.W.L.S to sit for in a month's time." 

"The ability to open portals to another dimension is beyond my powers, child. I cannot do that." 

A dreadful sinking feeling welled up within her. "You can't send us home?" 

"I am afraid that it is not possible. You have come for a reason, and the way back to your home is barred until you have fulfilled it." Her voice was laced with regret, and she slowly poured the silver pitcher of clear water into the birdbath thing and stepped back, watching her with glittering, all-knowing eyes. "Perhaps this might help you find the direction that you need." 

She stared at the pedestal dubiously as she stepped up to it. This was getting more and more like one of Professor Trelawney's Divination lessons. "What am I going to see?" 

"What you will see will depend on what the mirror would wish to reveal to you." 

Great. This answer was as good as the one Professor Binns had given her when she'd asked about what a mausoleum was in her first year. He'd simply said, "A mausoleum is a mausoleum, Miss Ferragert." Then looked at her as if she was a total idiot. 

She stepped up to the pedestal and looked inside. 

All she saw was water. 

She was about to turn away when it suddenly rippled and turned darker. Then, the shapes and images focused, and she could see Ron and the others staring sadly at her before turning away, their faces heavy with sympathy, though for what, she was not sure. 

Then, she watched as it cleared to reveal another Orc attack, and it dissolved to another warm, tranquil place, with gentle candlelight flickering in the room. She watched as darkness fell over Lothlorien, and saw all four of her friends standing in defense, soaked through in the rain and staring at something very large in horror. 

Then it all reverted back into the water again. 

"So you harbor ill news to Lothlorien," the Lady Galadriel said after a thoughtful moment. "The impending darkness that will befall the Golden Wood." 

"You mean we are going to have to fight it?" she asked incredulously, not used to having her future laid out for her like that. 

There was a faint, sad smile on the Lady's face. "Yes, I believe it to be so, for the mirror does not lie." 

She paused, taking it all in, her thoughts confused. "When?" 

"It will be soon." 

Drusilla's thoughts turned to something that was niggling at the back of her mind. "What about that room I saw earlier? The one with the candlelight? Whose room is that?" 

"That," the Lady said, her eyes glittering with a strange light, as if realizing something. "You shall find in time, for that would be your true purpose in coming here, the real part you have to play in Destiny's game."

Did she really have to be so cryptic? 

***

Drusilla perked up when she saw her friends emerge, one by one from the place she'd been earlier, their expressions a little disturbed. She stopped scuffing her foot against the soft ground and stood up to greet them. 

"What did you see?" she asked as soon as they sat themselves down next to her on a stone bench far away from the little garden. 

"We're going to fight something big," Ron said, looking a little apprehensive himself. "And Orcs. And I saw myself caught in the crossfire between the Orcs and the Elves. Or something. But mostly, we were supposed to fight something really…serious." 

Harry nodded. "I wonder if that's our purpose in coming here. To save this place." 

"It is," Ron replied. "She has already said that she could not open a portal to allow us to get back, so that should be it." 

"I wonder if Dumbledore knows where we are now." Hermione sighed and glanced down at her feet. 

"I don't think so," Drusilla said. "If he did, we'd be back home long ago. I think." 

"Come on, guys!" Harry said, a little impatiently. "We'll be able to find our way home somehow. Now, the most important thing is to get ready for the attack. Practice our skills or something." 

"Sounds good." Hermione agreed. "We don't even know what we're dealing with, and it's obviously not Orcs." 

"Maybe it might be Voldemort's evil twin brother or something." Ron remarked. "Lady Galadriel said something about some bloke named Sauron." 

"Sauron is master of the One Ring," Hermione spoke up with an air of superiority, as if talking about Mandrakes in Professor Sprout's class. "He created this master ring long ago to try to rule the world, but was defeated by an alliance of Men and Elves and it was lost long ago. He is now searching for it and trying to expand his influence and building an army in his fortress called Barad-dur in this place called Mordor." 

The three of them gaped at her in astonishment. How come she knew so much? 

"Why, Hermione!" Ron exclaimed. "How did you—"

Hermione tossed her hair indignantly. "Honestly, why can't you people try to know more about the place you are in? Lord Celeborn has kindly allowed me to enter his library anytime I like." Her eyes took on a glazed expression. "The books there were simply beautiful, filled with all sorts of wonderful legends. Have you heard the one about an Elf named Luthien and—"

"'Mione!" Ron cut in, looking a little annoyed. "We're supposed to be _not be studying_, you know. Away from Hogwarts and the dreadful O.W.L.s and all." he grinned in anticipation. "We finally have a valid excuse for not studying for the exams!" 

Harry had to grin. The prospect of being stuck here for the time being wasn't so bad after all. And besides, this place was beautiful and best of all: Snape-free. And no Argus Filch and that darned cat of his breathing down their necks everywhere they went, eager to catch them in the act of doing something wrong. 

Or whatever he thought of as being 'wrong'. 

Hermione looked horrified. "Oh no! O.W.L.s! I am doomed!" 

"Relax, 'Mione," Drusilla had to smile at her friend's panicked expression. "With any luck, we'd be able to skip O.W.L.s totally! Now won't that be fun." She entertained that thought for a pleasant minute. 

She looked even more horrified, and turned on her. "They CAN'T make us skip our O.W.L.s! I've studied so hard for it!" 

"Nothing you can do about it now, 'Mione," Harry said easily. "Got to wait until we get back to Hogwarts. For now, I say we practice sparring and everything." His turned a little more somber, and the smile faded from his face. "You guys have seen what the Orcs were like. And there would be an attack coming soon, with something that would be definitely worse than Orcs coming along, too. And they seemed really intent on attacking Lothlorien." 

Their faces turned serious, too, as they remembered the less than pleasant experience that would be before them. They would have to be ready, and if those disgusting Orcs were any hint, it was that what they were up against now was certainly dangerous. 

The enemy might not be Voldemort, but it didn't mean that it was any less deadly. 

***

"Why do I keep thinking of Lockhart everytime I do this?" Drusilla frowned, then thought better of her sparring position. A rather disturbing posture, that. 

'I wonder what he's doing now," Hermione said without thinking. 

"Not erasing wizard memories, of course." Ron remarked carelessly. "Bloody git, he was, doing something like that. And you liked him." 

She flushed, embarrassed. "Well, I did not know Lockhart made it all up!" 

"HEY!" Harry stepped in before they could really get going again. "I believe we were SPARRING here?" 

Drusilla snickered, twirling her wand between her fingers absently. She looked like she was about to say something, but exercised wise judgement at the last minute and kept her mouth shut. 

Feeling slightly sheepish, they stopped from what they were doing. 

"We can't really hex people around here," Drusilla spoke. "I mean, there's no Madam Pomfrey to run to when it goes all wrong." 

She had a good point. 

"Then what can we do?" Ron asked. "We'd be sitting ducks!" 

"But that is still not the way!" Hermione exclaimed. "I mean, those evil things need the Unforgivable Curses! Don't tell me we're going to spar with those!" 

"We might kill each other first." It seemed like Drusilla and Hermione were always on the same wavelength. Sometimes, anyway.

They had a point. 

'She's right." Harry said, sighing. "It's useless trying to prepare." 

"Well, we all know the curses," Drusilla said flippantly. "Maybe we should duel for fun, you know? The darkness has not arrived yet, and I think it'll be quite some time before it does. The Lady implied it." 

"Yeah, there's no use in worrying, is there?" Hermione added, crossing her arms over her chest. "What will come will come." 

"Que sera sera and all that." Ron muttered. 

"What?" All Ron received for his comment were three blank looks. 

Exasperated, he threw his hands in the air. "Oh, haven't you heard the Muggle song?" 

"I'm not too interested in music, thanks. Books are all I need." 

"The Dursleys won't let me near a radio." 

"_Muggles_ have songs??" 

This was hopeless. 

***

Successfully hidden, Haldir watched as the four young ones playfully spouted magic from their wands. Well, actually, he was only watching one person. She looked so much younger than she had yesterday, and it suddenly struck him that she was no more than a young child was in Elven years. 

But why did she attract him so much? It was one riddle he could never get the answer to.

He watched as she got into some kind of position, leveling her wand at her friend, the one named Harry Potter. A short blast of white light issued from the tip of her wand, and it hit against blue, dissipating it successfully. 

He watched as her eyes lit up in a grin mirroring her friend's, and wondered briefly if she would smile like that for him, her eyes dancing, her face free of shadows that trailed her footsteps wherever she went. 

Then he heard soft footfalls, and immediately turned away and started sharpening his arrows, making it seem like he had not been watching her. 

"Captain," an Elf he knew as Taeloran spoke, approaching him. "The Lady requests your presence." 

Haldir frowned, puzzled. The Lady never summoned him unless it was for something of grave importance or the news of impending war. He nodded finally; he could not refuse his Queen. "I will go. Keep vigil here, and send out scouts to search the surrounding area for any possible attack." 

***

The Lady Galadriel, it seemed, was already waiting for him, as beautiful as always in her white flowing robes. Bowing deeply, he said, "My Lady." 

"There is no need for formality now, Haldir. Rise." 

Surprised, he did so. "Is there anything you wish to see me about, My Lady?" 

She nodded once, then her gaze slipped faraway, as if recalling from distant memory. "Prepare your company. Sauron's darkness upon Lothlorien draws closer, as is the vision of the one of Middle Earth who had been birthed in the other realm."

He stiffened. "When does it arrive, My Lady?" 

She paused. "Three months from now. A dark evil rises, and the four will have realized their purpose at last." 

"They are to fight the darkness?" his heart rose to his throat. It had an ominous ring to it, and what if…? 

"Yes. What the outcome will be, I do not yet know." 

"They are nothing but children, My Lady." Her earlier reply was even worse. It seemed like she thought that they would not be able to live through that. 

"You do not feel that way, do you?" The Lady's gaze pinned him; saw through him immediately. And he knew that. There was nothing that he could possibly hide from his Queen. "The young Elf witch captures your affection?" 

He hesitated for a long moment, unsure of what to say. "She is only seventeen, My Lady." 

"Does it matter?" she queried, coming closer, her eyes all knowing, all encompassing, and then smiled sadly at him. "You are filled with much confusion, Haldir, it was as I have foreseen. Your heart does not pay heed to your mind anymore. Not when you are around her. You love her." 

He flinched as the words hit home. It was true. 

"What will come, will come, for this is what the Fates have so desired. Your heart holds precedence over your mind, for you do not see love with your mind; you only feel it in your heart. It knows love; it will never be wrong. Your mind is wrought with mistakes, simply because it does not understand what secrets it holds." 

He blinked. Was the Lady encouraging him? 

"You know that no one can encourage or discourage love." She spoke again, as if reading his mind. "But trials you shall have, more than anyone else's, for love is merciless to you and the young one." 

***

"Ah, I feel so much better," Drusilla sighed as she lovingly ran a hand over her Hogwarts robes that had been washed and returned to her. This was more like it. One more day of wearing those cursed gowns and she was going to scream. She buttoned her blouse and slipped on the sweater, ditching the tie. Wearing the tie while NOT in Hogwarts was a little too much. 

"I'll never get you, Dru." Hermione shook her head, staring at her. "I personally find the gowns really beautiful." 

"Not when you're tripping over them half the time. I might trip down the stairs one day while wearing those blasted things and actually die, you know." She secured the robe and regarded herself in the mirror again, pleased. "Nice and comfy." 

"Speaking of," Hermione leaned in, looking suddenly very interested. "You seem to be enjoying yourself last night with the Elf guy." 

"His name's Haldir." She said automatically, feeling a tingle when she spoke his name. 

"Yeah, him. You two were dancing the whole night," she grinned. "And he spent an awfully long time escorting you back. How was he?" 

Drusilla smiled, her eyes faraway. "He's like nothing I've ever met. You know when you see this special someone, and then suddenly the whole world goes dim around you, and he's the only person you can see?" 

Hermione moved beside her in the mirror, a smile on her face. "I know the feeling." She paused. "Did you two kiss?" 

"No," she replied, turning a faint pink. "I mean, we've only just met!" 

"So you don't want to?" 

"God, do I want to. But I don't know if he likes me. I mean, what if I read too much into it and make a total fool of myself?" 

"True. But I think he does. I mean, he appeared at the banquet for the first time, according to the women there, and that counts as something, isn't it?" 

"Maybe the Lady Galadriel pushed him to it. But last night, I really wanted him to kiss me." A dreamy look entered her eyes once more. "His arms are so warm and _safe_, you know. And his eyes…have you seen how enchanting they are? No wonder he's the most desirable Elf in all of Lothlorien." 

"I know that, he's definitely extremely handsome all right." She warmed to the subject. "You want him, you've got to speak up." 

"Are you insane? I can't do that! What if he doesn't feel the same? I'd rather go and live with Voldemort." 

Her best friend made a tsking sound and shook her head. "You're a nutter, you know that? How will he know that you like him if you don't say anything, then?" 

"Hmp." Drusilla adjusted her collar, then glanced out of the window, as if remembering something. "Hey, 'Mione, aren't you supposed to go for a walk with Ron?" 

She jumped, remembering. "Oh! How could I forget?" she turned to leave, then turned back to her. "Do you wa—"

She waved a hand dismissively at her. "Don't worry about me, I can find something to do by myself. You go and have fun." 

Hermione winked and darted out of the door. "I'll tell you all about it when I get back." 

"All right." 

***

It was boring. 

Drusilla strolled slowly among the large trees, her hands deep in her pockets. _I wonder where Haldir is now, _she thought. She hadn't seen him so far today. Maybe he was preparing for the coming battle. He had been really wonderful last night, and she hoped that it all had not been a dream. They danced together the whole night, and she felt herself truly falling for him; it seemed like the most natural thing to do. 

Pure. Simple. 

She sighed. Of all things she had to do while she was stuck here, she had to go and fall in love. But there was nothing much to be done about it, could it?

"Drusilla." 

You've got me wrapped up in you   
Somehow you let me in   
Into your web of bittersweet, of ecstasy and sin   
Feel like an angel falling out from grace   
  
She jumped, startled, then whirled around to see whom it was who'd spoken. Her eyes widened in surprise as her stomach suddenly started tingling, pleased at seeing him again. _Speak of the devil. _"Haldir?" 

He stood not too far behind her, his posture stiff, and his eyes unreadable, and looking as attractive as ever. He always looked attractive, but seeing him once more sent a jolt of anticipation up her system; she'd never met anyone quite like him before, and he fascinated her. 

I try to run, but I keep on falling   
And every time I turn around   
I hear your voice and it keeps on calling   
I'm bound, there's no way out   
No way out.....   


"I thought you were supposed to—" she continued, not knowing what to say.

"I need to speak with you." He stepped closer, and she did not move back. His eyes were boring into hers, and she had to fight not to look away. 

"Um…okay." She replied, wondering what it was about, and hoping that it was what she had been dreaming of last night. "What is it?" 

"You are going to the battle?" 

So he knew. She hesitated. What was he getting at? "It's what I'm supposed to be here for." 

He took a breath. How was he supposed to say this? "It is not as glorious as you think, Lady. Not the fairytale battles you have seen. This is death. It is war." 

"I know what war is." She said, her eyes shadowed as she remembered the dark time during her fifth and sixth years where Voldemort had declared war upon the wizarding world, unleashing his terrible power. The Death Eaters who had purportedly seen the error of their ways and had gone into hiding had emerged once again, and it was a terrible blow to the Ministry of Magic, since it's more weighty members were followers of the dreaded Dark Lord. There was death everywhere she looked, and they—she, Hermione, and Ron—had no choice but to be pulled into it as well, since Voldemort was gunning for Harry, and they would do anything to keep their friend safe. 

"You do not." His answer was cool. "You merely have an imagination of what it is like." 

"Me and my friends, we've fought the Dark Lord Voldemort and his army. Dark Wizards against the ones standing for light. Dark Wizards against Harry Potter. You think I don't know what that's like?" 

"This is not your war." 

"This is my chance to make amends." She said suddenly, memories of her mother flooding through her unexpectedly. She knew that her mother had committed many heinous acts within Middle-Earth, worst of all was pledging her loyalty to Sauron and killing off her own kind. She had not wanted to think about it, but when she did, she understood that this urge to fend off Sauron stemmed from the fierce desire to not be like her mother, the lady Morwen. Or her father, a Death Eater. 

She did not want to be anything like them.

"You hold not their thirst for destruction," he said, knowing what she was talking about. "There are no amends to make." 

She looked at him, troubled. "Why do you care?" 

"You are but a child." 

That answer cut into her deeply. So he only thought of her as a child. So he wasn't as drawn to her as she was to him. "Is-is that all I am in your eyes?" 

He took another step towards her, his eyes intense. He knew what she was speaking of. "Nothing can come out of this, Drusilla."

"Why?" she asked, trying hard not to show that she was dying inside. He was so cold, so emotionless saying it, as if it meant nothing to him anymore. _Maybe it really means nothing to him._

"You are seventeen years old. I am four thousand." 

His words hit her hard for a moment. _Four thousand…_ He was old enough to be one of her father's ancestors and three thousand years older than Hogwarts. "I did the math," she said, not to sound like four thousand minus seventeen was three thousand nine hundred and eighty three. 

You wanted me to want you   
I couldn't help myself   
You became my addiction   
I won't need nothing else   
Feel like I'm trapped inside these walls   
Trying to find my way   


"You do not know what you are doing, Lady. You do not know what you want." He threw at her, crushing everything crushable about her ego. Which, in short, was everything. He sounded so above it all, as if he knew what it was that he didn't want. 

"Oh, no?" she hoped desperately that her voice didn't break. "I think I do now. I want to get out of this conversation." This was all horribly going wrong. She turned to walk away, to salvage what was left of her pride. 

He grabbed her by the arm and stared hard at her, his light blue eyes flashing a dark sapphire. "If we give in to our emotions, you know one thing is going to lead to another." 

So he liked her.

Feeling a little swell in her heart, she raised her head. A strange, charged moment sizzled between them, and for the moment, it was simply guy and girl. He belonged here, she was not. It was all mixed up. But all Drusilla knew was that he was in her life whether she wanted it or not, and whether he wanted it or not. 

She was in love with him. 

"One thing has already led to another," she said sharply. "You know that." She hoped she was right about this. 

"This could get out of control. Out of yours, out of mine." He stood so close, and Drusilla wanted so badly for him to kiss her, she wanted all the things girls wanted from guys they loved with all their heart. 

"Isn't that the way it's supposed to be?" she challenged, her voice deliberately low and breathy. 

  
It's like a dream, you can't wake up from. It's a hunger that can't be satisfied....   
  
No matter how I try there's no escape....

Without warning, he pulled her roughly against his chest. A thrill shot through her—half excitement, half fear—as she looked up into his angry face. Was he going to kiss her? 

"This is no fairy tale of old. When I kiss you, you don't live happily ever after." 

"No." she knew that. In his arms, so close, so very close, she breathed against his neck and said, "I'm not afraid of this. Are you?" 

You wanted me to want you   
I couldn't help myself   
You became my addiction   
I won't need nothing else   
Feel like I'm trapped inside these walls   
Trying to find my way   


He said nothing; he looked at her for a long moment as he released her from his grip, and then turned on his heel and left, leaving her to stare after him. 

It's like a dream, you can't wake up from. It's a hunger that can't be satisfied....   
No matter how I try there's no escape....

***

Hermione observed her friend from across the table. She was listlessly picking at the food and not saying a word throughout the entire dinner conversation. 

"What happened?" she asked finally, drawing the boys' attention. They stopped talking immediately, noticing their buddy's lack of reaction today. 

Drusilla glanced at them, feeling dejected—more like rejected—all over again, regretting that she'd taken Hermione's advice and told him that she liked him. In an indirect way, of course. But he'd gotten it anyway. "Haldir." 

Harry and Ron perked up, impressed. "He kissed you?" they asked in unison.

Hermione shot them a withering look. How thick could boys get? 

"What happened with him?" she pressed, wanting to know what had gotten her so badly. 

Drusilla hated talking about this. She felt very stupid, remembering her earlier talk with Hermione today, then remembering the way-too-intense encounter in the forest. "Nothing. A good deal of _nothing._" She told them everything that happened today, and when she was done, Hermione sat back, thinking hard. 

"But it's so obvious that he likes you, too!" she spoke, puzzled. "More than likes you, I might add." 

"He treats me like a child. He said so himself." 

"But he likes you, that's what matters." 

She sighed again, looking sad. "Can we please talk about something else?" 

Harry helpfully filled up her glass. "All right, then. Did you know that there was this river a good way away from here that has advanced healing properties? If you are dead tired and you go for a dip in there, you'll come out of it feeling as if you've slept for ten hours straight." 

"The River Nimrodel," Ron added helpfully, shoveling food in his mouth. "Want to go there one day? We can show it to you." 

"Sure," she agreed, trying valiantly to engage herself in their conversations. After all, they were her friends, and were definitely there for her more times than she could count. 

***

Drusilla spent the next few days in a slightly depressed mood and had tried to avoid the place where she and Haldir had that little talk, spending all her time exploring with her friends and wandering into the city of Lothlorien where they amused themselves by admiring the pretty and intricate little objects.

Despite the threat of an oncoming battle, their manner was easy and relaxed; they'd survived Voldemort, and they could most possibly survive anything. Hermione had holed herself in the giant library a little later—something she'd wanted to do for a long time but couldn't—and dragged Drusilla along as a reluctant accompaniment, since the boys were about to experiment taking a bath in the river like the Elves did and of course, as a matter of conditioning, girls were not allowed. 

"This is so boring," Drusilla said finally, after carefully shutting the ancient-looking tome and returning it to the ornate bookshelf. "Even the footnotes has footnotes!" 

There was no answer. Hermione simply sat there, her attention rapt on the beloved book before her, and the only sign that she wasn't petrified was the quick scanning of her eyes across every line. 

It was very annoying. 

Drusilla herself was not a book person, not even in the loosest sense of the word, vastly preferring to go out and do things rather than sit still in one place for five hours staring at a whole bunch of words that would make no sense to her after the first two hours. 

"Hmm." Hermione mumbled, turning the page, her eyes already focusing on the words even before the page was rested. 

"There's a fire under your chair." 

"Hmm." She said amiably, her eyes still pasted on the book. 

"Ron's got a new girlfriend." 

"Really?" her reply was offhand, and she squinted as a particular paragraph that caught her attention. 

"Yeah. They are necking even as we speak in the garden just outside." 

"That's nice." 

Drusilla stood up and heaved an impatient sigh. "I'm leaving now, okay? See you back at our chambers." 

As expected, there was no answer. 

Figures, she thought, leaving the room. 


	2. The First Step

A/N: I just realized that I posted this story without even thanking any on my reviewers! I am so ungrateful, so I am reposting this right now, with a little new snippet about lightbulbs shoved in (Go look for it!) 

Anyway, I rally want to thank **Astronema **for giving me such lengthy and lovely reviews and gave me the inspiration to post this up. To **Doodlebug**, too. The entire credit goes to the two of you. Enjoy the story and review, please! J *hugs and kisses*

****

As Drusilla stepped out of the library, she stared at the sky in surprise. It was already dark out, with the last ray of the sun creeping back to whence it came. The lights of the fair city were glowing as usual, twinkling like stars, and she frowned. She wasn't in the mood to admire them tonight; they looked too bright and cheerful for her current mood. 

As if being stuck in a darned deep lavender dress—her robes were off to the wash again, and she suspected that Sylina and Hermione might have something to do with that— was not enough, it had to have really low necklines and those strange extra long sleeve ends that billowed out like sails or something, and often got entangled in her fingers this time and made her clumsier than ever.

Great. Now she was entangled both in her hands and her legs. Was there some kind of conspiracy against her or something? Or did The Powers That Be simply enjoy seeing her fall flat on her face every twenty steps when she would forget to hitch up the damned skirts? 

__

Oh, that's enough of maudlin self-pitying thoughts, she told herself. It could get worse. She could have had no clothes to wear at all. _It would be an improvement. _Came another irritated thought. 

__

Oh, damn. 

Tightening the hold she had on the cloak that she had fastened over her shoulders earlier, she headed away from the lights and into the darkness that beckoned to her, absorbed in her own thoughts and her own world. Which consisted of random musings like Hermione living in the library all her life and marrying Ron in there instead of a chapel, where Harry and Ron were, and mostly…Haldir. 

It seemed like though he was perpetually absent these couple of days, he had never strayed far from her mind, no matter how much she tried to shut him out. She now knew that on some level, he fancied her, too. But that fact gave her a lot more frustration rather than relief or joy, because he obviously wasn't about to do anything about it. 

It was like stalemate, no one making a move, and she supposed that neither one really dared to. 

She sighed and looked down at her feet, wondering if she had scared him away or something. Maybe he didn't quite mean what he said or she misread his intentions or something. 

It was all very frustrating. What could she possibly do now? He seemed so firm in his statement that nothing would come out of it, and maybe, just maybe he could be right. 

__

I mean, what for? She found herself thinking, growing more dejected than ever now that no one was around her and she did not have to put up a façade to show that it was not affecting her at all. _What's the whole point in the end when I'm going to go home? _

That sudden, errant thought was too horrible to contemplate at the moment, and she pushed it away quickly. She did not, and didn't want to care about what happened later. All she wanted to care about was now and let tomorrow take care of itself. 

All she knew was that her heart was definitely lost to him. 

***

Up upon his vantage point on a tree, Haldir stood alone as he watched Drusilla pass through the woods, her deep green cloak trailing behind her, effectively concealing her awkward movements within the Elvish garment. He stood within the shadows—so expertly hidden that even keen Elf eyes could not make him out—his face clouded with longing, regret, and worry.

He clutched the tree bark tightly, fighting the intense desire to wrap her up in his arms and never let her go, but he knew it was not to be. He wanted it, he wanted her. How much, only Iluvatar knew, and the intensity of the feelings he never thought he had was beginning to scare him. He had always been in tight control, his cold, almost frosty exterior giving none of his expressions away, his demeanor revealing nothing of his soul, and yet, this girl could still draw it out of him with the simplest of smiles, and how she did it was totally beyond him. 

All he realized was that she had captivated him thoroughly that night, and when he gazed into her eyes after sending her to her doorstep, he knew that he was truly lost. 

Lost in where, Haldir did not know. 

Almost as if she'd sensed him, she looked up, a faint sparkle in her eyes. But by then, he was gone. 

He couldn't tear his eyes away from her as she moved on. 

*** 

__

It's definitely my hyperactive imagination, Drusilla sighed, rubbing her temple and making a turn into the comforting silence of the wood, leaving the city farther and farther behind. It seemed like someone was watching her like some kind of experiment, and until now, that strange feeling had never quite left her. 

"Lumos," she said to her wand, and it's end lit up brilliantly, lighting the way before her so that she did not fall into holes or any other traps, and that she could see if anyone followed her, friendly or otherwise. She'd been ambushed once already, and it was not an entirely happy episode. But then again, if it weren't for the secret stalkers, there wouldn't have been Haldir, right? 

__

Why does everything have to go back to him? 

It was quiet now, and perhaps this was the best time to think about the things that she'd tried to avoid during the past few days. Haldir hadn't quite given her an answer, and she wondered if he'd been scared away. Had she been too forward? He had been right about what he'd said the other day, that nothing would come out of it, but she knew that she was determined to try. 

After all, having loved and lost was so much better than never having loved at all. And besides, it was too late now. There was no turning back for her. She knew that no matter what he said, it would never change the feelings that she'd now had for him. It had all been very sudden, actually, and Drusilla had no idea as to how it actually happened, only that it did. Maybe the fireworks started the night they danced, staring into each other's eyes, building a world with only themselves for a few sweet, sweet moments…

She wondered if he felt the same. 

She wondered if he could ever love her. 

She was so deep in her thoughts that she did not even have time to scream when a cold, clammy hand clamped over her mouth. It smelt of rotting flesh, and her stomach clenched, threatening to throw up its contents. She frantically tried to kick free of her attacker, but the foul creature simply snarled and held onto her tighter, rendering it almost impossible to breathe. 

"Fresh meat at last," it hissed, spittle landing on her face as it shook her roughly. "It comes so willingly to us." 

"About time, too. Save us the effort of going out and hunting." Another agreed, its voice like nails running over Snape's nasty chalkboard. 

__

Orcs, she thought dimly as it batted her wand away, sending it clattering to the ground. In the darkness, she could barely make out half a dozen or more of its companions. What was she going to do now? There was no one to save her, no one to hear…

She bit its hand in a desperate attempt to get free, and immediately regretted it. The taste was horrible. The Orc howled and let her go, but not before striking her hard across the face, sending her sprawling to the ground, a trickle of blood on the side of her mouth. Stars exploded in her head as she landed on the hard ground, barely noticing the large blades the Orcs had whipped out, bloodlust gleaming in their maddened eyes. 

"Drusilla!" came a very familiar voice, but one that she—for the moment—could not place. Her entire skull was hurting too much to really think…

There was another explosion of sound, this time of the soft thwack of arrows and an enraged shout, followed by the howling and screaming of the Orcs. There were more than she'd seen, and before long, it erupted into yet another battle, this one more gruesome. Drusilla was pushed to the side, her face sore and aching even as she reached for her wand. 

__

Think of a spell, she thought, watching as one of the Elves fell under a few disgusting Orcs. _Think! _

No spell came to mind. 

Haldir moved among the Orcs like a deadly panther, distinguishable only by his blades that flashed coldly in the almost non-existent light. Drusilla got to her feet shakily, watching the fight in horror. No matter if she'd seen it before; it was still terrifying. Those Orcs, the blood... the Elf who was even now seriously injured…she was horrified at the Elves' mortality. No matter if they were immortal and all that. They could still be seriously wounded. 

She screwed up her courage to try to enter the battlefield—it looked like the Elves were winning again—to get to the wounded Elf, but she screamed as an Orc bounded up to her and tackled her to the ground, jaws wide open, showing all its grotesque teeth, and try as she might, she couldn't quite get the wand up…

Suddenly, the Orc was torn off her, and she saw Haldir's enraged face before he sank his blade into the offending creature. It squealed in pain, and before it could collapse on her, Haldir yanked the monster and threw it a distance away from her. 

She stared at him, surprised at his thoughtfulness, and knowing for a fact that he was supposed to be off-duty tonight. So why was he here? He looked at her for a moment, as if sensing her unspoken question, then spun around to lop off an Orc's head before swinging to counter another's sword, drawing himself back into the fight once more, but never straying far from her. For that she was grateful. 

Before long, the battle was over. She noted that there were seven Elves altogether, excluding the one on the ground, who was wincing in pain. Eyes widening and remembering the few skills that Madam Pomfrey had taught her—she may not be very good at simple spells, but she definitely had a knack for healing—she clutched her wand and knelt beside the wounded Elf before anyone could do anything. 

He was new and kind of young—whatever young was in Elf standards—by the looks of it. And rather handsome, too, with long deep gold hair and green eyes. The Elf was dressed in the same garb as the rest of them, but his leg…it was soaked through with blood and most of it was seeping into the ground. Fighting down the lingering fear and the urge to throw up—the scent of blood in the air was so strong—she was oblivious to the other Elves' as she brushed the hair away from his head, taking his hand. He was so cold…

Remembering the dark time when there was war in the wizarding world and she'd been made to help the Healers, she surveyed his leg, knowing that at the rate the elf was going, he was probably going to bleed out before either could take him back to Lothlorien for treatment. 

"How is he?" Haldir spoke, coming up behind her. She almost couldn't hear him. 

"Not good," she said honestly, forgetting, for the moment, what they had spoken before. This was more important; she knew that. Understood that. 

The Elf was pale, unnaturally pale, and she realized belatedly that he was going into shock. "No," she commanded, trying hard to not panic herself as she squeezed his hand and turned his head gently to face her. "Focus on me, don't close your eyes or sleep. Look at me." 

The Elf nodded faintly and half-heartedly reached for his injured leg. "It hurts." 

She smiled slightly and caught his hand in hers midway, giving him her most reassuring look that she knew Madam Pomfrey would be very proud of her for, since it seemed to be one of the few things she was actually rather good at. "I know. The blade probably hit through to an artery. It will be all right soon, I promise. What's your name?" 

"Celornian." He responded weakly, growing fainter than ever. 

Drusilla hesitated a little. He was fading, and she had to do something, and fast. 

Gritting her teeth, she stuck a finger in the tear in his pants and ripped the material apart, successfully removing it. Fresh blood pumped with every heartbeat, and she forced herself to hurry, or else Celornian would most probably lose his life. 

"What are you doing?" one of the Elves demanded frantically. "We have to take him to the Healer's soon or he will die!" 

"If we don't stop the bleeding soon, he definitely will! And by the time you guys carry him there, he'll be dead anyway!" she snapped, her patience stretching. Her fingers fumbling over the too-intricate catches of her cloak, it was a good few moments before she could finally get it free. "I'm going to put a tourniquet on his leg," she explained, wrapping the cloak tightly around his leg after a little struggle with the stubborn material and tying it up as hard as she could. Obviously, warrior Elves did not know what a tourniquet was and how to properly stop the bleeding. 

"And I've got to get it tight enough to stop the bleeding, but it must be loosened every few minutes to get the blood circulating, or he could lose the leg." Remembering Madam Pomfrey's earlier words to her, she looked at them in turn. "Can you guys do that?"

She located a suitable sized branch, slipped it into the tourniquet, then tightened it herself. The Elf was fading fast, his eyes dazed and dreamy. "He's going into shock again." She turned to them, her eyes desperate. "I need something warm to cover him with." 

They all immediately surrendered their cloaks, and she took it gratefully, slipping it around the Elf. This time, the rest of the Elves helped, hitching their injured comrade up and making as little sudden movements as possible. Slowly, they made their way back into Lothlorien. Drusilla walked beside them, shaken by the earlier encounter and checking on Celornian, making sure that he was not bleeding overmuch. She was still holding on to his hand. 

"Do you have a wife, Celornian?" she asked softly, trying to keep him awake. Apparently, this question was working. The 

Elf's demeanor became less fuzzy and actually glowed a little brighter.

Literally glowed. 

Drusilla stared, momentarily distracted with the notion that the probable reason they didn't need—what was that Muggle thing called again?—eckeltricity—yes! That was it!—in this place was because its inhabitants already gave off enough light to replace lightbulbs. An image of an Elf shining like a Muggle lightbulb made her snort in amusement, which she hastily replaced with a hacking cough, horrified with herself for even thinking about that at a time like this. 

Celornian went on, oblivious to her grossly digressive thought processes. "Yes. We have been wed for fifty years." 

"Wow." This was impressive. Fifty years was a very, very long time, and he still looked like he was no older than twenty. Back in her world, couples who were married for fifty years were old and doddering. Well, the Muggle couples, anyway. "Do you love her?" 

He nodded weakly and looked strangely dreamy and awake at the same time. "Very much. She's the most beautiful being you've ever seen. Her name is Linuthiel, and we are expecting our third child." He smiled, looking blissful. "I believe I will name her after my sweet wife." 

"What is she like?" 

His smile grew wider. "Her smile is more dazzling then the Evenstar, her eyes more enchanting than Luthien's, her songs, ai! Sweeter than the very songs of the Nimrodel if there can ever be one!"

Not even understanding half the things the Elf said, she simply nodded and squeezed his hand for comfort and for the possible strength that she could offer him. "You have to hang on in there, do you hear me? Do it for your wife and your children." 

Celornian nodded, and there was fresh determination in his stance. She could see that thoughts of his wife was monopolizing his mind and pushing him on, and she was glad of that. 

__

If only Madam Pomfrey could see me now, she thought wistfully, thinking of Hogwarts once more. _She would've been very proud. _

They made their way to the Healing Rooms and gently deposited Celornian there where he could be properly treated by Elvish medicine. The Elves then lingered for a moment longer then excused themselves, moving to their posts and to send out more guards to the borders. 

All save for Haldir, who had not taken his gaze off her since they entered the Healing Room with the wounded Elf. He simply stood a short way away and watched silently. But now, even as the rest of the Elves left the room, he moved toward her, and she couldn't help but notice the sleek predatory grace in his movements.

"I shall escort you back to your chambers, Lady Drusilla." he said softly beside her, with no inflection at all. She was about to say that she could take care of herself pretty well when she remembered the earlier Orc ambush. Shuddering at the horrid memory, she simply nodded, not caring if it was _Haldir_ who sent her back. Despite herself, she felt a little thrill of hope and excitement at what it could mean, but she couldn't bring herself to really _hope._ What if she was wrong? 

They walked in stony silence, the air tense and heavy between them. He said nothing, and she—after a few very awkward tries at making decent conversation—fell silent, following his lead. What was wrong with him, anyway? It was a question she mulled on more than once, annoyed at his coolness towards her and puzzled at what could possibly lead him to keep away from her. Haldir's eyes scanned the immediately area sharply, his trained eyes missing nothing. But he was tense, she could see it. 

And she was sure that some of it did not come from the wariness of probable attacking Orcs. 

Finally, they reached her door, and relieved, she moved to open it and was about to turn back to say a word of thanks to him when she caught sight of his tunic. There was a tear in the area near his rib, and it was bleeding. Oh, why hadn't she noticed it before? 

"You're hurt," she began, a little apprehensive, reaching to touch the wound, but pulled back at the last minute, wondering briefly if he could allow her to touch him. 

"It's only a flesh wound." 

"It looks deep," she said, upon her second—and closer—look. And it definitely looked serious, all right.

Swallowing, she opened the door wider, motioning for him to enter. "Come on in, let's get that wound seen to." 

"I will head to the Healer's later," he told her and tried to leave. 

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. I'm not gonna eat you. And besides, you're better at fighting than I am." 

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes seeming to see through her soul. "It is not exactly you that I fear, Lady Drusilla." the undercurrent of his words sent a delicious tingle down her spine despite their present situation, but she chose to ignore it. He was bleeding, and that was what mattered to her. 

"Will you come in or not? It's cold outside, and I know you're feeling extremely uncomfortable. So let's save you another trip to the Healer's and get your wound tended to." She fully understood what it meant by inviting her inside her room, especially at this time of the night, and realizing, with a thrill, that she did not care. 

He hesitated for a moment, then followed her in. 

"Take your shirt off," she said briskly as he followed her to the middle of her chambers. She fleetingly hoped her voice did not betray her sudden nervousness. "I'll just uh- conjure up some bandages and antiseptics and you'll be as good as new."

She turned and began to murmur a few words, a few tricks that she'd learnt from Madam Pomfrey. In a sparkle, a roll of clean white bandages, cotton wool, and a small bottle of dark liquid appeared before her. _This would have to do,_ she decided, hearing the rustle of material on smooth skin. 

Drusilla turned, and noticed that he had his back to her, and that he was nude from waist up. Swallowing, her heart began to pound violently against her ribs as she paused, hypnotized by the sleek taper of muscles on his back and his arms. Not only had he a perfect face, he had a very perfect body too, with all the hidden, caged muscles that he did not display openly but hinted at their presence whenever he made a slight movement. 

__

Those clothes hide way too much, she thought, forgetting to breathe. Not _too_ muscular, but definitely NO wimp. Oh, no, not at all. 

The formidable Elf Warrior moved slightly, and she stirred from her daze, feeling slightly embarrassed and wondering if he caught her goggling at him.. 

Hastily opening the small bottle and dabbing a little of the strange-smelling liquid onto the white cotton, she moved over to where his wound was—_oh Merlin. He's even hotter from the front—_and carefully dabbed it onto the ugly looking wound. "This will hurt a little," she said, her voice thick through the sudden lump in the throat. 

He stood very still, aware of the tension that was rapidly building up in the room, regretting the decision to come here. She was so close to him, close enough for him to reach out and kiss her senseless. Close enough for him to whisper his love for her. The pain he felt from the wound did nothing to ease his longing for this young Elf, who, even now, was oh so carefully making sure that the wound would not be infected, her touch infinitely gentle. 

It was like nothing he had ever known before. The gentlest of touches, the faintest of caresses, the bitter sting of the liquid that kept bringing him back down to the ground. It all reminded him of the love that he was so afraid to touch. He was afraid of the rippling feelings between them, so much like what she was doing right now. It hurt like hell, but he felt a strange sense of sweet happiness and fulfillment when she touched him. 

Aware that their bodies were so close together and their lips a scant few inches apart, Drusilla swallowed again and looked up. To distract herself from wondering if his lips were really as kissable as they looked, she said to him, "It's your off-day today and you're not supposed to be in the eastern borders. Why were you there?" 

His voice was soft and deep, and it seemed to caress her soul. "I was out for a walk." 

She considered that for a moment, then remembered the strange feeling she'd had of being watched earlier. It had to be him. Deciding to take a chance on that, she asked, "You were not following me, then?" 

His answer was cool and collected. "Why should I?" 

"You tell me." She said, unrolling the bandages. "You totally ignore me for two days and then tonight you were suddenly following me since the time I stepped out of the library and into the forest. I'm not saying that I'm upset about you saving my life back there. It's just that…" she paused, wondering if she should say it. "I'd like to know why." 

There was a long silence, and she purposefully averted his eyes from his, knowing very well that he was trying to pick up on her thoughts. She concentrated on dressing his wound, securely wrapping the bandage around him and marveling inwardly at his body. 

She wondered if he was thinking about her the same way she was thinking about him right now. 

Another long, indecisive pause. Then he said, in a voice so soft that she had to strain to heat them, "Perhaps I like you." 

She glanced up at him then, only half-joking, not daring to believe what she'd heard. "Perhaps?" 

He made no answer and simply gazed at her. She could almost see the conflicting thoughts and emotions running through his mind at the moment. Silently, he lifted her chin towards him with his fingers and dared to cup her face, his eyes glittering, alight with longing and sweet regret. "Nothing will ever come out of this, Drusilla." 

"I know," she said, trying to hide the pain mingled with sweet desire that flared up within her, burning hot in its intensity. "For one thing, you're old enough to be my father's ancestor. And another thing, you're from here, I'm not." She swallowed. "I have to go home one day." 

He took a breath and stared at her steadily, looking all the more beautiful and unattainable under the flickering light that cast shadows on the face she knew of as absolutely flawless. "I have to walk away from this. It would save both of us the pain." 

"I know. I have to walk away from this, too." She wanted to die. Why, oh why had she thrown herself at him like that? Why did she have to fall for him, of all people? 

They stood staring at each other, unspoken emotions flying between them, charging the very atmosphere in the air with their tension, their hidden excitement, the unbidden passion that leapt between them. He refused to relinquish his hold on her face and his dominance in her eyes.

His fingers traced her lips, and a rush of warmth shot through her, tingling and making her face hot. He looked torn. "I should…" 

"Walk away, you said," she replied, leaning into his gentle touch, knowing, with a thrill, that he could not make himself leave, no matter how hard he tried to. 

She raised her head and he cradled her face again, stroking the bruised side of her mouth tenderly. Her heart pounding in her ears, she placed a hand on his bare chest, enjoying the soft feel of his skin against her palm. He seemed a little taken aback by the gesture, but then his lips were on hers, tender, unsure.

Her heart sang his name as she pulled him closer, her fingers lacing around his neck as he leaned down to meet her lips. Everything seemed to melt away from her now, save for the bliss she experienced as his kisses grew more and more passionate, and as she began to respond in kind. Her knees grew weak, and would have given out if not for him wrapping his arms tightly around her waist as if he would never let her go. 

They gave themselves to the moment, kissing fiercely, each wanting desperately to explore the other's mouth, wanting to caress and to taste, committing it to memory that would last forever. 

__

Oh Merlin, she thought giddily, tangling her fingers in his hair that felt like spun silk. _He's a damn good kisser._

The door flew open. 

"Dru! Guess what we—" Ron's excited voice died in his throat as the two leapt away from each other, startled at the interruption. Ron took in the compromising situation—the Marchwarden of Lothlorien half-naked and kissing with Drusilla—and his face turned even redder than his hair—which was saying a lot. 

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry!" He mumbled, thoroughly embarrassed at having interrupted them and quickly beating a hasty retreat. Oh man, how was he going to live this down? He shot out of the door, slammed it, and sprinted to his chambers, hoping that Drusilla didn't decide to kill him later. It had been very obvious then that they were in the middle of doing something, and he groaned mentally. Of all people, why did the unlucky one always had to be him? 

***

Drusilla stared at the shut door, surprised at the speed of which Ron had entered and departed. The mood was definitely shattered now, but she didn't seem to mind. A deep sense of contentment rose within her at the knowledge that Haldir definitely could not resist her, and that he seemed to like her as much as she liked him. Maybe even more, she didn't know. All she knew was that there was no turning back from here, no matter what anyone said. Whatever happened, they would tide through it together. One look at his eyes told her all she needed to know. The Elf regarded her for a long moment, a rush of a certain emotion he now identified as love—unstoppable in its force—surged through him, and he couldn't resist reaching out and stroking her cheek, feeling the warm skin beneath his fingertips. By Iluvatar, she was so beautiful…

"The night draws late," he said softly, dreading the words that would come out of his lips later, suddenly wanting with all his heart to spend more time with her, but the other less selfish, more sensible part stated that she probably needed her sleep after the shock she had earlier that evening, and that being around her was fanning his desire for her to considerable levels. "I have to leave you to your rest, milady." 

She looked crestfallen. "I'm not sleepy." 

He had to smile, and a pang shot through his heart. She was but a child. "You will see me in the morning, Drusilla." 

Drusilla wanted to ask more questions, but that would make her appear too clingy and she might come across as too immature to him. So not the effect she wanted. She nodded. "I wasn't worrying about that. Good night, Haldir." 

His reply to that was a gentle kiss on her lips, then he inclined his head in a gentlemanly gesture and exited the room, leaving Drusilla was a strange sense of peace and a tingly little feeling of loneliness at his absence. 

***

It was a wonderful morning, with the gentle call of unknown birds in the trees, the warm sunlight spreading over the floor and Drusilla's bed. The door was once again opened, but this time, it was by Hermione, looking as fresh and as ready as ever. 


	3. The Arrival of Endawyn

****

AN: Hi everyone! I'm so, so sorry for not posting this up earlier! I was really busy with work and all, and could barely finish it in time… Well, this is for all those people who flooded my mailbox yelling at me to put up this chapter. Enjoy! I'm gonna work on the fourth installment now, and once again I apologize for being such a dopey prick. 

Chapter Three: Why'd You Have To Go And Make Things So Complicated? 

"Good morning to you!" came Hermione's way too chirpy, way too perky voice. She didn't even bother to shut the door quietly. Regarding the unmoving lump on the bed for a few moments and finally deciding that there was only _one _person in the covers and that she was not disturbing anything…intimate, she sat down on the bed, sending the lump bouncing slightly upon impact. 

"Dru?" she prodded gently, trying to find out where her head was under the covers. Drusilla was known to sleep in all sorts of weird angles back in Hogwarts. "Wake up." 

Silence. 

She prodded at her best friend even harder and raised her voice a little. "Dru! Wake up, I've got a few things to ask you!" 

Nothing. 

Hermione heaved a frustrated sigh. This had always been Drusilla's bad habit. It was always as if she survived on thirteen hours of sleep a day or something, no less. And whenever she slept, not even Dumbledore could wake her up, and that was saying something. But sometimes, it was a good thing whenever it came to her and Ron and the horizontal tango—Drusilla's room was the closest to hers and it was entirely possible to know what Hermione was doing in the other room—but right now, it wasn't. 

She reached over and shook her friend. Forcefully. "Wake up, girl! You've slept for long enough, and I've really got SOMETHING to ask you! Drusilla Fontaine!!!!"

"Urrgh…" came the groan, and Drusilla rolled over, squinting foggily at her best friend. "Leeme 'lone…" 

"Not until you answer my question." 

Drusilla mentioned a few choice expletives under her breath, then flopped back to sleep again. 

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, do stop sleeping already!" she turned Drusilla over, and the other girl groaned loudly, realizing that she had no chance of getting back to sleep once Hermione clamped down onto her like a pit bull. 

"This better be good, Hermione." Drusilla warned. She yawned widely and stretched, staring sullenly at Hermione. Then, in a dead sort of voice, she said. "You've got my undivided attention. Now what is it?" 

Deciding that this was encouragement enough to go on, Hermione smiled at her disarmingly before her inborn curiosity could get the better of her. "How was last night?" 

"What?" Still suffering from early-morning amnesia, she stared at her friend blearily, uncomprehending. 

"You _know,_ things!" 

"What?"

Hermione frowned. "Listen, Dru. Keep this up and we'll be here for a century. Last night, remember? What happened?" 

"Last night?" 

She looked around for any clue, her brain still half-asleep. Then her eyes rested on the small medicine bottle not too far away from her on the table. Next to it lay several cotton swabs. 

__

Cotton swabs… she thought, a warm feeling spreading through her like honey, making her skin tingle. Just last night, she'd nursed Haldir's wound, his bare skin feeling smooth and wonderful beneath her fingertips, his arms feeling gentle and tender wrapped possessively around her, his kisses slow and loving and mind-numbing…

A hot flush rose to her cheeks as her fingers absently flew to her lips. Never had she been kissed like that before…the feeling was simply exhilarating. She felt as if she was soaring to the heavens, and all she could do was just feel…

Suddenly, Hermione was in her face again, waving a hand in front of her and looking at her as if she was mentally subnormal. 

Quickly disguising her embarrassment at being caught into one of profound annoyance, she once again glowered at the person she considered her best friend. 

Except in the mornings. 

"That's what you get when you wake me up too early." 

The beautiful brunette smirked. "I don't suppose the blush is because of me, too?" she leaned forward, her eyes alight with new curiosity. "Tell me, Dru, what happened last night? It ought to be good, considering you've got a giant crush on him, and he seems to fancy you too." 

Drusilla let out a long-suffering sigh. "You wake me up so early in the morning just to know what went on?" 

"Well, if you'd like to hear Ron's version…" 

"WHAT?!" Crap, she'd used that damnable word three times already!

"Ron came in to our rooms last night and told us what you were doing." Hermione said innocently, conveniently leaving out the part where they—ahem—had engaged in…pleasuring activities after that. Some things were just not worth mentioning. "A half naked Marchwarden alone in a room with a hormonal female and the rest is left to the imagination." 

She looked horrified at the thought. "I don't want to know anything about your imagination, and I'm definitely NOT hormonal!" 

Hermione shot her a withering glance at her pathetic protest. "Right. Tell it to someone more gullible, would you? Too bad Ron had to barge in. If he hadn't. I'd be finding two lumps on the bed today instead of only one." To her glee, Drusilla turned a shade of red that seriously rivaled the scarlet Gryffindor color. Interpreting it as a silent assent, her smile grew into a full-fledged grin. "Ooh, up to something naughty last night, aren't we?" 

"WE JUST KISSED!!" 

"That wasn't what Ron was saying." 

Hearing the little git's name four times already, she finally snapped. With a loud growl, she jumped off the bed and marched towards the door, her hands clenched into fists. As if being resident romantic mood-shatterer wasn't enough, he was trying to emulate Rita Skeeter too. 

"I'm going to kill him," she gritted, barreling out of the doors with a protesting Hermione tagging along behind her, her words fizzling into an inaudible sentence. 

"RONALD WEASLEY!" Drusilla bellowed, not giving a hoot whether the entire kingdom of Lothlorien heard her or not. Homicide was high on her list this morning, and she was not going to let anything stand in her way.

Marching down the corridor, she glanced fleetingly at the doors, saw his, but determinedly threw Hermione's room door open. Hell, there was NO WAY Ron would miss a risk-free chance like that with his girlfriend! Behind her, Hermione slapped a hand to her forehead, her face flaming. How the hell did she know exactly which door to open? Were they that obvious last night? 

Fortunately for Ron, he'd already foreseen Drusilla's homicidal tendencies and had made himself scarce as soon as possible. And the foul mood she always had in the mornings were a potent mix, and he couldn't exactly afford to hang around after what he'd seen last night. 

"Where is the sodding git?" she muttered, looking around. The unusually rumpled sheets told her that the occupant had already vacated the immediate premises not too long ago. 

Grabbing the chance, Hermione tugged on her friend's sleeve. Once she was over her morning mood, she'd be perfectly all right again. 

She hoped. 

"Come on, Dru. Let's go and get breakfast. I'm starving." 

"I'm not," she said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest and looking mildly comical in that stance, what with her extremely messed up hair and the relatively plain nightdress she was wearing. Maybe some of her bad mood came from the obvious bad hair day she was going to have ahead of her. "I'm going to find Weasley and KILL him. Your boyfriend or not." 

As if to put lie to her words, her stomach growled loudly in protest, and Hermione stifled a giggle. Honestly, her friend could be so pigheaded at times. 

"We could always find him later," she promised. Well, it wasn't exactly a promise, but knowing her friend, give her some time and she'd forget about it with remarkable speed. "Come on, before your stomach crawls up to your gullet to look for food." 

***

It was wrong. 

Just wrong, and he knew it. Oh, did he know it. Haldir sharpened his arrows with a vicious purpose, watching as thin peels floated down to the floor of the guard post for a moment before it was carried away by the gentle wind. He'd been here ever since he found out that he couldn't get to sleep, and what better way to spend the time by keeping guard over his beloved city? Besides, one couldn't be too careful, what with the increased raids of the Orcs during the past few days. 

And last night…

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to push away the all too tempting images. Images of him being in Drusilla's warm room—it was so strange how she could simply make that guestroom seem so warm and cosy all of a sudden, the very pleasant sensation of her fingers on his bare skin, the sudden, intense swell of emotion he'd had for her, the overwhelming desire to have her…

It was all wrong. 

He'd always prided himself over his iron will, his icy control, but why, oh why had he lost his control and kissed her last night? Why had he allowed himself to make that mistake? Things would never be between them, so why was he still rushing headlong into it like a young, ignorant fool? He was drawing close to four millennia, for the love of Valar, and it galled him that he actually went to do something like that without even thinking. 

__

These…feelings for her has to stop, he told himself harshly. He was the Marchwarden of Lorien after all, and he could not, _would not_ fall in love. 

Especially not for a child like her. It would be impossible. Pushing away the Lady's words the other day, he doggedly concentrated on his sharpening. It was just a passing wave of attraction, that was all. It would just be like all the others. 

Nothing else. 

__

Of course, a snide voice at the back of his mind reminded him. _A passing wave that causes you to lose your sleep just thinking about her._

Despite himself, however, it seemed like his world had just…rearranged itself, somehow. All the things that were so methodical to him seemed to be messed up then put back again, and the cold perspective he'd had had seemed to be turned around, somehow. It was as if someone had injected a special brand of difference of some kind and made him feel somewhat…detached from himself and yet closer to discovering himself at the same time. The strange torrent of emotions left him strangely weary and yet invigorated, happy and despairing at the same time. 

It was all so strange and all so alien to him, having felt nothing remotely close to this in his entire existence. And he liked and hated it all at the same time. Opposite feelings clashed together within his heart, challenging his sharp mind, honed through the years to the pinnacle of perfection. 

And it seemed to be all because of Drusilla. 

It seemed so impossible for him to fall for her in such a short period of time, but there was…something about her that he just could not seem to place, that set her apart from any other female. 

That, he admitted, had intrigued him. Her innocence tugged at him, the occasional haunted, sad look in her eyes attracted him. That and the fact that she was so endearingly beautiful clad in the garb of his people, no matter what she thought about herself. She was so different from all the other Elven ladies he'd met over the years, so…unpredictable, bold yet shy, the way his heart pounded whenever her fingers accidentally brushed his, the unique smile she'd had…true, she wasn't beautiful by Elven standards, but she was simply _alluring_. There was something about her that made him want to find out more, something about her that told him that she was so much deeper, so much more complex that she seemed. 

She grew into herself during the past few days, and Lothlorien seemed to come alive just by her presence, and she seemed to bloom like a delicate flower that only looked beautiful only on the third and fourth glance…she was like a book, full of endless stories, interesting twists and turns, pleasant surprises—like the time she spoke about her feelings for him for the first time…his breath caught in his throat when his mind wandered back to that scene, but he scowled and brought his thoughts back again. 

It was extremely unbecoming for an Elf like him to be so easily distracted. Where did all his discipline go? It always seemed as if she could reach into him somehow and dissolve all the walls and masks he'd put around himself. It was a bit disconcerting, really, and he didn't want to think about it just now.

He didn't want to think about it. Ever. 

But even so, the best thing was, she didn't even see what he'd seen in her at first glance…

__

No, he objected fiercely. He was not going to think about her! His duty to his Lady and his Lord came first above all things, and Drusilla was just a guest here, nothing more. 

And despite her purpose here, she would have to go back home one day, wherever her home was. 

Struggling with the strangely vacant feeling within him at the thought of her leaving, he slipped the sharpened arrow back into his quiver and pulled out another, studying the tip and running the tip of his finger over the arrowhead. Still sharp. 

Good. 

Unable to help himself, his thoughts flicked back helplessly to the night where he danced with her. It all had been so magical, and he felt as if he was drowning in her gentle brown eyes that spoke volumes. It was as if he could see her entire life within those windows to her soul, as if he could reach out and touch the pure innocence that lay deep within her. The innocence that had died within him all so long ago, ever since he witnessed his parents' death by the marauding Orcs when he was just a child. 

He would never forget it. 

The Lady Galadriel had taken him in as one of her own since then, and he'd worked tirelessly to repay that debt, striving to prove himself and to reassure his lieges that they had made no mistake in choosing him as Marchwarden and as—almost—surrogate son. 

His hand clenched the arrow tightly, the mask of arrogance and aloofness had served him well over the long years, and he did not see the reason for it to fail now. His responsibility to the Lord and the Lady was placed high above all things, and to that he would hold, no matter how difficult he was finding it now. 

Drusilla was a mistake he had made in his folly, in the heat of the moment. 

Last night was a mistake. 

And he would make sure that it did not happen again. 

"Haldir." 

*** 

After tripping indelicately over the sixth tree root that was obviously put there to make her life even more miserable, Drusilla glared at her friend petulantly, despairing over the fact that the damned dress that had been loaned to her that had hindered her motions every step she took was already muddied at the hem. 

It was, in all honesty, a ghastly sight. 

Already extremely annoyed by the fact that Ron had managed to evade her successfully the whole morning, AND that Hermione was STILL dragging her everywhere without telling her where the heck they were going, this did not bode well for her mood later in the day. 

"'Mione, I swear that if you don't tell me where we are headed to, I'm going to scream. I mean it." She already had an inkling that the main reason Hermione was literally bringing her round and round the Golden Wood was because she wanted her to forget that she owed Ron a good kick in the pants. 

Or where he would not have a chance to procreate. 

__

Well, he deserves it, she thought to herself. Who told him to be born with a penchant for such bad timings? But she found the urge to kick him where it doesn't see the light of day a growing lesser and lesser. Since, well, let's just face it, if it hadn't been for him, Merlin only knew where she would be right now. 

Not that she didn't want it, of course, but even she knew that it would be too fast. 

Much too fast. 

And she really hadn't known him. Not too much, anyway. He seemed like that kind of elusive, vaguely mysterious person, not to mention arrogant—the times she'd seen him converse with others were…odd, to say the least. Oh, he behaved like a perfect gentleman, but one could not possibly miss the disdain hidden within the thin veil of smoothness.—and he always seemed to have that strange, haunted expression in his eyes. 

Eyes that promised of things that were beyond her comprehension, that revealed an entire world of emotions within them. Eyes that captured her heart at first glance and yet cast the deepest shade of despair within her. Despair that she would never be the one who would have him, and yet, falling hopelessly for him as well. 

He was beautiful. 

More than beautiful, he was the embodiment of perfection, one who could even make angels weep from shame. And it always seemed like the more she thought about him, the more surprised she was that someone as heavenly as him could ever like someone like her. 

__

The two of us are the Firstborn, she thought quietly, her thoughts wandering away from Hermione right now. She was speaking, but she wasn't listening. _But why are we as different as night and day? _

Being around him always made her feel that way, as if she was inferior to him somehow, and yet…being around him filled her in a way no one else did in a very, very long time. He made her aware of the aching gap that plagued her heart and yet filled it up for her at the same time. The emotions were too confusing for her, and she suddenly felt tired. Did love always feel like this? 

Did love always make your heart burn with unbearable longing for the other person, and yet pulse with the delicious warmth that your other half had provided you with? Did it cause you to want to weep and laugh at the same time because of its intensity? Did it want you to both hold on and pull away at the same time, fearing that your other half would think lowly of you for doing either? Did it cause so much chaos within your soul that you can't live with or without? 

Sighing, she rubbed at her temple, closing her eyes to find some kind of reprieve from the thoughts that were haunting her now. Was it how it felt to be hopelessly in love with someone and not really know how they felt about you? 

True, she realized. He'd kissed her last night, but that could probably be in the heat of the moment, couldn't it? Somehow, that prospect was too horrible for her to contemplate, but with some sick twist, she kept being pulled to it over and over again. 

__

There's no way he could ever like you, a snide voice whispered in her mind, striking a deep chord in her heart. It was true. 

She hated it, but it was true. 

How could he, when his kindred were at least a thousand times more graceful and beautiful than her? Not to mention the little disturbing fact that they could walk more than an entire distance WITHOUT falling on their face and still look as if they were floating. 

Suddenly, she felt more like a fool than ever. He was four thousand years old, the most eligible bachelor in all of Lothlorien. Surely he was bound of have thousands of females lusting over him. And after all that millenium of being lusted over, one would think that he would have developed some kind of tactic for them. 

Maybe the kiss last night was one of those. 

__

No, she cut off that train of thought as soon as it drifted to her. He said he liked her. 

__

He said perhaps… 

Perhaps…

That single word was the one that caused so much confusion and unrest within her heart, coupled with the fact that Haldir was nowhere to be seen. Not that she was stalking him, of course, but one would normally see him with his other sentinels, discussing war tactics or battle gear somewhere. But now…

__

Oh, do stop thinking about him! The more sensible part of her brain railed at her impatiently. _You're here for a purpose, but that purpose is not to FALL IN LOVE. _

But then the Lady had said that there was supposed to be some kind of other thing she was supposed to accomplish, wasn't she? And she knew what she was talking about, all right. Maybe, just maybe...

"'Mione?" came her voice, breaking the silence. She immediately regretted opening her mouth, knowing her question was going to sound extremely stupid when it came out. 

Hermione, though, seemed to be expecting something like this, because she didn't sound surprised at all. In fact, she sounded faintly expectant. "Yes?" 

"I know this will sound barking mad, but honestly, do you think Haldir and I can have a happy ending or something?" 

To her surprise, she didn't laugh, but simply sighed, turning serious all of a sudden. "I don't need to remind you that we're in Middle Earth, not Hogwarts." 

Drusilla blinked, catching the words between her lines. Summarily, even she thought that there wouldn't possibly be any ending. There couldn't. 

"But then this is your home, isn't it?" 

__

Home… 

"My home is in Hogwarts," she replied shortly. Maybe a little _too_ shortly. "Always has been, always will be." 

Her friend stared at her for a long moment, saying nothing. Drusilla looked over at her, a little miffed that Hermione seemed to be so perceptive. Not to say that she normally wasn't, but still. She was about to say something when an Elf landed lightly on the ground just in front of her. Drusilla ground her heels into the ground to stop and stifled a startled scream. Well, she figured, one too many Orc ambushes tended to play strange mind games on a person. 

Said Elf straightened himself—yes, it was a "he"—and bowed ever-so-slightly, a twinkle in his eye. Long, silver blonde hair cascaded down his shoulders, and he looked so much like Haldir, only that his shoulders were less broad and there was an unspoken mirth about him that set him apart. Dressed in the usual garb for Elven archers, he smiled at them. 

"It is indeed a lovely morning for a walk, ladies. Even lovelier so for us when two beautiful women stray across our guard posts." 

A little taken aback by the fact that this Elf, a wonderful creature in itself, was paying them a gracious compliment, Hermione found nothing to say. She'd been entranced and deeply in awe of these all-too-beautiful beings ever since she'd stepped in this place, and their regard of them rose steadily higher as the days went past. In fact, in her eyes, they were almost demigods.

Drusilla, for one—although she'd felt mostly inferior to them because of the fact that they were her kindred and that she was nothing like them—didn't feel as awe-struck as her friend. Maybe it was because of last night, when she realized that no matter how otherworldly they were, they were still made of flesh. They could be injured, and even killed. 

And she'd even saved one of almost certain death last night. 

As if on cue, many Elves poked their heads out from where they were obviously hiding and watching them. In the trees, in the bushes, within the dense foliage of the Golden Wood…Hermione counted at least a dozen of them, watching the two of them with curious eyes. It was very unnerving, all right, being in the wood for so long and not even knowing that they were being watched. 

The Elf looked curiously at them, from one to the other, and when his eyes rested on Drusilla, a small spark lit his eyes. "Ah, the famous Lady Drusilla." 

Drusilla blinked, wondering how he knew her name and what the heck he meant. "Uh?"

__

Oh, that was just so smooth of you, Fontaine, she mentally smacked herself, regretting the decision to actually follow Hermione around. 

He looked even more amused, and his voice was warm, and he seemed to pick up on her thoughts. "No one who resides in the Lady of Light's gracious hospitality is unknown by the rest of the Elves in Lorien. Especially if the guest is in the middle of a much-speculated relationship with the unreachable Marchwarden and might I add, most desired Elf in the entire realm." 

Oh Merlin. Was there any place in here where no one knew who she was? It was getting all so annoying, and Drusilla was never one who bore to stand in the limelight. In fact, she had always backed away from it all her life, and she saw no difference here. 

Momentarily at a loss for words, she simply stared at him. Then she said the first thing that came to mind. "You look like Haldir." 

"Of course I would," the Elf replied in a warm chuckle. "I am his brother, Orophin." 

"Oh." 

"Well…" Hermione began, a little hesitantly. She was one to never lose her manners, even in a situation like this. "I believe you already know our names. It is nice to meet you, anyway." She held out her hand for a companionable shake, forgetting that this was not Hogwarts. 

The shake never came. Instead, came the warm, tingling feeling of a gentle kiss being placed at the back of her hand. Orophin did the same thing to a stunned Drusilla, then smiled at them, the epitome of charm. "The pleasure is all mine. May I know where you ladies are heading to at this time of day?" 

Hermione looked over at Drusilla. To be honest, she had not planned any particular destination for them. She'd dragged her friend on a long walk so as to make her forget about kicking Ron's butt. It had almost worked, but the question posed by Orophin made Drusilla annoyed all over again. 

"Ask her. She pulled me out for a walk so I wouldn't kill her boyfriend." 

Orophin, unversed in the hidden catches and subtle trickery in modern day language, obviously thought she meant it, and his eyes widened. "Why do you want to kill her… boy friend?" he obviously also had no idea what a boyfriend was. 

Drusilla flushed a dull red. Why had she stepped into a trap like this? Oh, she was stupid. Feeling very uncomfortable now, she shifted from foot to foot. "Well, I uh…she-he saw…never mind. But it's for a justified reason. Her boyfriend's a nosy git." 

As justified as walking into people's VERY private moments got, anyway. 

"I resent that," Hermione remarked from beside her, looking suitably narked. Orophin looked them over with barely-concealed delight and looking as if he just had a brand new toy he had no idea how to operate. "Just because he—"

"Shut up, now, 'Mione." 

"And what, may I ask, is a boyfriend?" Orophin questioned, looking from one girl to the other.

"A lover. Male lover." Drusilla replied, eager to get off the reason why she wanted to kill Ron.

"Ah, a soulmate?" 

"I wouldn't put it like that, but there you are." 

He was about to say something else when a young Elf came running up to them, out of breath. Drusilla stared at him in surprise, having never seen an elf out of breath before. 

"Master Orophin, you must return, quick! The Lady Endawyn has returned!" 

Orophin brightened considerably. "All the way from Mirkwood? This is news indeed! Where is she?" 

"She is with the Captain, sir." 

"Of course," Orophin mused thoughtfully. "Where else could she be?" 

"Captain?" Hermione said blankly. 

"Haldir is the captain of the Lorien guard," the Elf reminded her gently. "I suppose he would be overjoyed, seeing as she has come back and all." 

Drusilla felt a dreadful sinking feeling rise deep in her chest, and it felt like her stomach had solidified and was now the weight of a Hippogriff. "He would?" 

Oblivious to her paling complexion, the Elf nodded, chuckling a little. "The two of them have always been very good friends. She's the only person he allows within his heart and vice versa. And judging from them, they've always been a lot more than friends, if you ask me." 

Drusilla was stunned, and a strange, bitter feeling was rising from the back of her throat. It was as if time had stopped then, trying to shut out what she'd heard, but finding out that it was already too late. Hermione, who was standing beside her, gave her a significant look, which she industriously ignored, digesting what Orophin had said. So Haldir was attached? 

No wonder he said that she didn't know what she was in for. 

No wonder he kept pushing her away. 

No wonder…

Why did he kiss her then? 

Confusion and hurt welled up in her. Why didn't he tell her? Why had he let her on? Was this some kind of game to him? 

Unconsciously, her fingers flew once more to her lips, even as she remembered what had happened last night. But he looked so struck, so in…love with her, so longing…was it all false? 

****

Against her will, Orophin had dragged her and Hermione along to see this Lady Endawyn he had been talking about so enthusiastically. 

__

Everyone loves her, she thought miserably, trudging along. Even Hermione seemed fascinated with Lady Endawyn, although she tried to remain dismissive out of loyalty to her. Which meant a lot, actually, with a temperament like McGonagall's, it was very difficult to engage Hermione's interest. Especially with someone of the same sex. _How can I even compare? _

Feeling steadily worse every second, she wondered what she would do if what Orophin said was true. It might've been an exaggeration on his part—Merlin, she wished it were so!—or something. But if it really was true, talk about big time embarrassment on her side for throwing herself at him in the first place. 

Suddenly, she found herself longing more and more for the home she knew as Hogwarts, and she hoped that whatever it was they were supposed to stop came soon so she could go home and forget all about it. 

The first thing Drusilla noticed was the beautiful dome-shaped structure of the parlour, and the small, beautiful winding flowers that seemed to sparkle in the gentle sunlight. A small waterfall tinkled nearby, catching the rays of the sunlight and splaying little rainbows on the soft ground. 

The second thing she saw was Haldir. 

Talking and laughing with someone who seemed to be the Lady Galadriel's equal in beauty. Or even better. 

Long, deep gold tresses rippled down her slender back, her eyes were as deep as an ocean, with flecks of green within them, and they seemed to sparkle with a light that enchanted one and all. Perfect rosebud lips already decorated her perfect features, and even the word beautiful didn't even begin to do justice to this vision before her. And suddenly, she found herself understanding why he would fall for her. Who wouldn't? Hell, even she would, if she was a guy. 

Even her laugh was melodic, sounding like silver bells that tinkled gracefully in the gentle wind. 

Dressed in a silken gold and gossamer silver gown that would put every Elf maiden below Galadriel to shame, she had an aura about her that was altogether mystically otherworldly and alluring, making her to seem to come from the very myths of Elves themselves, if they ever had it, that was. 

Hermione gasped silently behind her, obviously caught. 

She looked like a blossoming, yet delicate flower, and Drusilla suddenly felt very plain and drab compared to her. A sinking feeling rose within her once more, and her mouth was dry. _How can I even compare? How can I even dream? They look like the perfect couple._

"I think I should leave," she muttered, trying to make an escape before either of them saw her. She really didn't want to talk to them now. Not when Haldir seemed so happy. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't heard him laugh at all. And here he was, laughing as if he hadn't had a care in the world. What chance had she got against someone like that? And obviously, the Lady was so much more graceful and elegant than her, and once more, she felt like a total loser. Like a toad when compared to a swan like her. 

She could almost hear it now, the soft whispers, laughing and jeering at her, wondering what kind of a chance she had against the esteemed Lady Endawyn. The lady was everything Drusilla wasn't; she was beautiful, elegant, otherworldly, pure, was very well-versed in fighting, sorcery and archery. Even in sorcery! And sorcery was the only thing Drusilla could remotely do well. 

She had already lost before she even begun. 

Drusilla was about to slink away, unnoticed and trying to keep herself from breaking apart when the lady caught sight of them. 

Standing, she flashed a brilliant smile that seemed to light up the entire forest. Her eyes were friendly and warm, and it was then that Haldir caught sight of them, too. And Drusilla noticed, with dismay, that his eyes flickered with an unreadable emotion when he laid eyes on her. 

And it broke her heart when his smile faded. 

Feeling strangely numb and stricken, she tore her eyes away from his own in an effort to mask the intense hurt she was going through then and there, and tried to pay attention to what Orophin was saying. 

"Mae govannen, My Lady Endawyn. Four hundred years of absence and you look even more ravishing." 

Endawyn laughed softly, shaking her head. "Flatter me not, Orophin. You don't look so bad yourself, too." She turned to the two girls with a curious eyebrow. "And these two ladies are the esteemed guests of the Golden Wood, I suppose?" there was nothing mocking about her tone, only genuine curiosity. 

"Yes. Lady Endawyn, meet Lady Drusilla and Lady Hermione."

The beautiful vision smiled gently at them. "It is indeed a pleasure to meet you, Lady Drusilla, Lady Hermione. But just call me Endawyn. I get very tired of these formal salutations." 

Hermione looked star-struck and amazed. Who could blame her? Even Drusilla was feeling a lot of that awe herself. 

"I have heard much about you from Haldir," she continued, looking mildly amused and oblivious to the fact that Drusilla had blanched and flinched at the mention of his name. "Come, have a seat. It is not nice for you to keep standing like that." 

Oblivious to everything, save for the way she noticed that he simply could not take his eyes off Drusilla. 

"Oh. Feel free to call us by name, too." Hermione said warmly, taken by her evident thoughtfulness and following after Orophin to take a seat at the small round table. The Elf sat on the other side of Endawyn, and Hermione seated herself next to him, leaving Drusilla with no other place but—

—the one beside Haldir. 

Silently cursing her fate, she made her way to the last seat and sat herself down, careful to make as little noise as possible, and feeling even worse with her muddied dress. Why, of all days, did she have to come visit today? When Drusilla was so obviously at her worst? 

Why did she have to be so perfect? 

Fighting back a pang, she didn't once look in Haldir's direction even as they began the conversation. Endawyn, as it turned out, was everything any girl wanted to be. She was bubbly, caring, warm, and extremely thoughtful. Drusilla, dazed in her own private pain, did not join in much with the conversation. 

She pressed her legs against the chair stand, hoping that no one noticed the muddy hem. It was humiliating enough that she was nothing like the Lady Endawyn, and everything she'd done was simply wishful thinking on her part. The Lady was extremely pleasant, but ever so often—maybe it was her imagination—she would get a few strange looks from her. Not exactly peculiar strange, but weird strange. It was like ice seemed to cloud over her eyes whenever their eyes met. And ever so often, she would glance at Haldir with some strange sort of longing or something. 

It was all too strange. 

Especially when Drusilla saw her cold, almost angry gaze. For a split second, she seemed so different then, almost frightening, but then it was over, and she was left wondering if it was all a figment of her imagination. 

***

__

I can't meet,

Losing sleep over this

No I can't

And now I cannot stop pacing

Give me a few hours

I'll have this all sorted out

If my mind would just stop ranting

The wind chilled her this time. Standing alone atop her balcony, Drusilla wrapped her arms around herself, cursing the thin Elven fabric. Beautiful though it was, it didn't seem to keep the cold away. She'd excused herself from the merry discussion as soon as possible so that she did not see more of Haldir and Endawyn. Merlin's shorts, it hurt. Damn, did it hurt. In those moments when she saw them together, especially the looks that the beautiful lady gave to Haldir, it felt like someone had torn her heart out with a fork and then proceeded to shred it into bite-sized pieces. 

She gazed out, and for once, she was not enchanted by the wonder of this place, this spot of Heaven that had enraptured her so. All the beauty here had only served to remind her rudely of what she could never hope to be. 

Of what she definitely did not deserve. It mocked her, this place. With all its breathtaking wonders and peaceful rivers that meandered in between golden trees. 

__

Cause I cannot stand still

I can be this unsteady

This cannot be happening

It all served to remind her that she could never be a part of the Golden Wood. It served to show her how lacking she was, and how much she was missing. 

__

Perhaps I like you. His voice drifted to her, unbidden, and she shut her eyes, clenching her fists so hard that her nails dug into her palm. He was such a liar. Why didn't he tell her that he already had a girlfriend before? 

__

Because maybe he doesn't. Another thought popped up in her mind. _And besides, he kissed you. _

Sighing, Drusilla took one last look outside before heading back into the room, trying her hardest not to think about what Endawyn and Haldir were doing now, and not to think about the humiliation she had subjected herself to when she'd confessed her feelings for him. Even now as she desperately tried to hate him and Endawyn, she found it exceedingly difficult, to her despair. Endawyn was just too good, too perfect, too much like the princesses she'd read about when she was young. And Haldir…well, maybe she could bring herself to loathe him one day, but not now. Not when she had definitely fallen head over heels in love with him. 

And right now, there was only one thing she knew, one thing she would force herself to realize.

It was a mistake; she would never, ever try to do something like this again. 

***

__

This is over my head

But underneath my feet

Cause by tomorrow morning I'll have this beat

And everything will be back the way that it was

I wish that it was just that easy

No matter how hard he tried, Haldir simply could not tear his eyes off her, and it galled him so. Standing upon his guard post, his gaze was fixed on Drusilla's balcony. Only moments earlier she'd been there, looking ever so beautiful as the wind danced around her, toying with her hair, spilling them around her face. He'd been struck with an almost insane urge to rush there and push them all back from her face, then proceed to kiss soundly those lips that beckoned to him even now. 

Sighing, he slammed a fist into the wood. _What is wrong with me? _He'd gotten over her for a grand total for three minutes in Endawyn's company before the appearance of Drusilla suddenly sent the unexpected emotions rushing through him full-force. Why had he suddenly become so weak? 

Just when he'd thought that maybe Endawyn was better for him, she had to come along to put a lie to that thought. True, Drusilla was not as beautiful or even as graceful—he'd more or less noticed the less than desirable mud-stains at the hem of her gown—but he didn't care. All he knew, in that split instant that his smile had melted to a flaring heat of desire and fear of his sudden inability to control himself—was that he wanted her. He wanted her so bad that his heart seemed to twist in its longing. The memories of the previous night flowed to him easily even as her shy eyes averted away from his own.

But then even as she joined in the conversation—unwillingly, he noticed—he saw that she was rather disturbed by the closeness of him and Endawyn. And for some strange reason, he was filled with an urge to compound that unease, in the hope that the disturbing feelings he was experiencing because of her would go away. 

__

Would you catch me if I fall out of what I fell in

Don't be surprised if I collapse down at your feet again

I don't want to run away from this

I know that I just don't need this.

And it worked. Maybe a little too well, because after a few minutes, she'd stood up and discreetly excused herself, murmuring something about going to see her other friend, the one named Harry. But all it took was for him to gaze into her eyes to realize that she was deeply hurt. He'd hated himself in that moment, knowing all too well who the perpetrator was. And for a few moments after she left, he'd, too, excused himself, suddenly not wanting to stay there any longer. All it mattered was that Drusilla was hurt. 

And it was all his fault. 

__

What will come, will come, for this is what the Fates have so desired. Your heart holds precedence over your mind, for you do not see love with your mind; you only feel it in your heart. It knows love; it will never be wrong. Your mind is wrought with mistakes, simply because it does not understand what secrets it holds. The Lady's words wafted back to him again, spoken sagely to him in what seemed like years ago, and he felt even worse. But what was there to be done about it? 

__

Go to her, came the Lady's words, clear in his mind. Haldir jumped a little, startled. Had the Lady been reading his thoughts? He'd always been slightly unnerved by the Lady's power to see into his thoughts wherever he was, and although the Lady did not normally concern herself with his personal affairs, especially the ones pertaining to the affairs of his heart, but she would, on occasion, advise him, which he had always appreciated greatly, as the words she'd said were never uttered without meaning. 

The Lady's presence in his mind smiled gently, and he felt her warmth and amusement. _I have read her mind, and she is indeed heartbroken. Go to her if you will, Haldir. _

But I have my duties, my Lady. He thought back. 

__

You are not on duty today, Marchwarden. Indeed, she knew his schedule very well, and Haldir marveled once again at her evident power. He could never seem to lie to her, or at least mask when he was on duty and when he was not. The Lady continued, _Your heart yearns for her. It is folly to deny what your heart seeks so badly. _

With that, her presence in his mind departed, and he knew that she was giving him space for him to think. It was one of the things he'd always loved about his benevolent Queen, she never pushed anyone, she simply gave them a little nudge in the right direction and left them to do what they wished. 

And all of a sudden, he wished to see Drusilla once more; he'd never been able to get rid of her pained eyes that haunted his very soul. Eyes that were full of hurt and…betrayal. No matter how wrong he'd thought his relationship with her would be, his heart seemed to have a mind of its own, ignoring steadfastly what the sensible part of him told it. 

He was about to head down the post when the sound of light footsteps sounded on the steps, and before long, he was met with the beautiful, smiling face of his longtime best friend, Endawyn. She was stunning as usual, truly, her beauty rivaled and most probably surpassed Undomiel's in Rivendell. But still, he was surprised to see her here. 

"Endawyn?" 

"Would you like to take a walk with me, Haldir?" Her voice sounded as clear and as musical as bells. "It's a beautiful afternoon." 

But he had to see Drusilla. Even as he looked into Endawyn's clear green eyes, his declination faded on his lips. It had been centuries since he'd had a good long walk with his friend, and now, considering that the atmosphere now was extremely beautiful and he had no real wish to ruin his mood with a most likely intense conversation with Drusilla, in which he was positive that his self-control would most likely melt around her in an instant—he had always both hated and loved being in Drusilla's company. Hated it because he feared the intense wave of emotions that had swept down all barriers, causing him to lose himself totally around her, and loved it because of the same reasons—she had always caused so much emotional turmoil within him, and being an Elf, did not like the intense feelings very much, although a part of him welcomed it willingly. It was all so messed up, and yet so clear at the same time…

He looked at Endawyn; this Elf was so much more simple, and less complicated. 

"My pleasure." He nodded. "We have a lot to catch up on, Endawyn." 

***

Feeling the security of Haldir walking beside her once more, Endawyn allowed herself to relax. She'd caught Haldir watching the flet that was opposite him with an intense expression she'd never seen before, and it disturbed her. The feeling was compounded when she realized that it was the Elven child-witch's living quarters. Her eyes had darkened considerably as an all-too-familiar well of jealousy rose up within her. So the rumors that were running rife around Lothlorien that the Marchwarden was besotted with the daughter of the Black Lady Morwen was true. But how could it be? 

Even though Endawyn hadn't had anything against the girl, an inner sense of righteousness had prevented her from truly liking her, because she was born of black blood, and—in her opinion, at least—was capable of turning against them the first chance she had. The Lady of Light had not doubted her allegiance, but Endawyn did. People did not just fall into Lothlorien every day. 

But maybe…maybe the slightly negative feelings she had towards the child had a lot to do with Haldir. Especially when his expression and demeanor changed when she left the table earlier, and the look that he'd given the child when Orophin had brought her there. She, too, did not forget the immediate way he'd stood up and excused himself—presumably to pursue her—Endawyn was a very sharp person, and things like this had never escaped her notice. 

She found herself hating the way Haldir looked at this Drusilla, simply because—if she would admit to herself—she had wished that he had been looking at her the same way. She had loved him unconditionally for centuries, ever since they'd first met. Their friendship had grown, and she believed that it had most likely blossomed into something more when she'd been sent to Mirkwood. Her grief was immense, and he had shared her pain too. She would never forget the way he looked when she had left. Letters flew back and forth between them at first, before it got steadily lesser as time went by and as each of them had garnered more responsibilities.

During those lonely days in Mirkwood, thoughts of Haldir and seeing him again were all that was keeping her going, and she had been sure that if she returned, they would most likely wed. 

But now, it seemed like he was in love with another. 

__

It cannot be, she thought stubbornly. _I have waited for him for so long, and loved him for so much longer. The Valar would surely recognize my sacrifices. He cannot possibly be in love with another when he loved me once. And besides, she is merely a child. What could she possibly have that I do not possess? _

But even as they walked, Endawyn realized with dismay and quite a bit of jealousy that his heart was clearly somewhere else, and his gaze kept stealing to the particular flet where Drusilla was, as if he was hoping that she could come out. 

"Haldir," she said quickly, eager to draw his attention from its undesirable target and back onto her. "The forest looks more beautiful than ever." 

Hearing her speak about his beloved land had definitely gotten his attention and Haldir smiled at her. "Of course it has, my lady Endawyn. Lothlorien is renowned for its ever changing beauty. Perhaps you have been in Mirkwood too long." 

She nodded. "Yes. I am deciding to return here for good." 

He brightened a little. "That is good." 

There was a pause, and Endawyn, disappointed that he did not say what she had desperately hoped he would, asked, "Would it please you greatly?" 

"Of course it would," he answered, oblivious to her second meaning. "The Lady has missed you greatly, and it would be good to stay here, what with the trouble boiling in Mordor. Mirkwood is no longer a very safe place, I heard." 

"Have you missed me?" she ventured. She knew she'd posed that question to him earlier, but she had to ask it again to be sure.

"Why speak of the past? You are here now, are you not?" He looked oddly over at her, wondering what she was possibly getting at. Hadn't she asked him that earlier? "But yes, I assure you again, I have indeed missed you." The easy way he said it made her even more disappointed. There was no intensity behind his words now, she was sure, only a customary smoothness and warmth he had always used when around his brothers. 

__

Don't you love me anymore? She thought, watching his profile. He was more exquisite than ever, since well-formed features and silver-gold hair that spilled across his broad shoulders, and just watching him sent her pulse into overdrive. He had gotten much more handsome while she was gone, and it was no wonder that he was the most sought after Elf in Lothlorien and most likely in all the Elven kingdoms in Middle-Earth, as there had been talk in Mirkwood about the elusive and cool Marchwarden of the Golden Wood. The fact that he was close to her had been cause for the Mirkwood maidens' envy, and during her time there, she felt good about it. But now, it felt as if that was the furthest she would ever get with him…

__

No, it cannot be. She thought vehemently. _He has been momentarily distracted. But sooner or later, he will see that I am the right one for him. That I am the only one for him. _

***

__

Cause I'm waiting for tonight

Been waiting for tomorrow

I'm somewhere in between 

What is real, 

Just a dream

What is real

Just a dream

What is real

Just a dream

Cause I cannot stand still

I can be this unsteady

This cannot be happening

Drusilla watched as the Haldir and Endawyn moved into the forest together, fighting back the tears. They looked so close and perfect together. She'd gone out to the balcony after a few minutes, deciding that she couldn't possibly go to sleep, and was just in time to see Haldir smiling at Endawyn. It suddenly occurred to her that he didn't really smile around her lately. 

__

So it was just a game to him after all, she thought bitterly, watching the happy couple. _See how a loser like me could throw myself at him in how many different ways…I was wrong when I thought that last night had mattered to him as much as it did for me._

Slowly, painfully, she drew the curtains shut, not wanting to see anymore. It had all become clear to her now; she had lost. 

__

Some destiny.

__

Cause I'm waiting for tonight

Been waiting for tomorrow

I'm somewhere in between 

What is real, 

Just a dream

What is real

Just a dream

What is real

Just a dream

Cause I cannot stand still

I can be this unsteady

This cannot be happening

***


	4. Misunderstandings All Around!

Dearest all, I am back!! So sorry for the late update, I've been really busy to EVEN stay on the computer for an hour! Thanks for hanging on, you guys, and I present to you…the NEXT chapter!!

Dedicated specially to **Astronema **and **shadowofadoubt**, 'cause they were the people who supported me through all this, haha! I love you two!! 

It had been a restless night. Again. It had already been three days since she'd seen either Haldir or Endawyn around, and she REALLY didn't want to think about what they were doing. 

__

Because thinking leads to more thinking, and more thinking leads to restless nights, like the three nights I haven't been bloody sleeping like I should. 

Not willing to see Hermione or the others just yet—Drusilla didn't like company when she was upset—she decided to go take a stroll. _Anything to keep my mind off them. _She thought as she pulled on her Hogwarts robes over the simple nightdress she was wearing. 

It was beginning to lighten, the familiar gold of her surroundings gleaming slightly brighter, signalling the beginning of a new day. 

__

A new day of what? She thought bitterly, making her way down the steps. New day or not, it didn't seem to make a difference. 

Absently nodding to the Elves who had walked past her, she found her thoughts drifting back to Endawyn and Haldir again. Would he kiss Endawyn the way he…kissed her? 

It was the millionth time she'd wondered about that, and it sickened her. She was acting like a lovesick fool, and yet there seemed to be nothing she could possibly do about it. 

She'd numbed the pain, detached herself as far from it as it possibly could, and she supposed it kind of worked—helped by the three days without a shadow of either of them—oh, it worked very well, all right. At least she could remotely think about those two together without feeling the strange tearing sensation inside. 

Not too much, anyway. 

Oh, who was she kidding?! She desperately hoped that whatever she came for would be over so that she could go back home and forget all about this. It seemed like the best thing to do. 

__

Home… it seemed like a strange concept to her now. She would rather face Snape after he was stinkbombed and live with him rather than see the Marchwarden again! 

And then again, why wasn't there any news of Dumbledore or anything? She supposed that he would not take four missing students so lightly. Especially since one was Harry Potter. It just wasn't like him.

The soft sound of gurgling water greeted her ears, and she smiled slightly. The small stream she'd discovered the day before had amazing comforting qualities. Pushing away a couple of bushes, the sparkling stream glittered in the warm gold glow, as if it was welcoming her. 

Drusilla sat down beside the stream and ran her fingers through the water. It was surprisingly cool to the touch, and she couldn't help but splash at the surface of the water, watching the droplets dance as it landed back into the stream, catching the light and sparkling brightly. 

__

They're so much like diamonds, she thought in awe as she splashed more water. She could almost swear that water back at home never QUITE caught the light that way. Briefly, she wondered why there weren't any fish in the water when a soft, musical voice cut through her thoughts. "Good morning, Lady Drusilla. May I?" 

Blinking in surprise and secret annoyance, _how did she find me here?! _she turned to the one person she never really wanted to see. Especially on such a pretty day. Endawyn. She looked as breathtaking as ever, her sunshine-spun hair shimmering around her like some kind of loving glow, and she was dressed in one of those impossibly intricate Elven dresses. Drusilla had half a mind to say 'May you what?' but she had a strange urge to be lady-like and polite in front of her. She was such a fair and comely creature, Drusilla was sure that everyone did whatever she asked. 

She suddenly felt like something to be found under the heel of a boot or something. Weakly, she managed a shrug. "Yeah--I mean, yes, of course." 

Sod it. Now she sounded like a total prat. Wait till Hermione heard about this. 

Endawyn didn't make a move to sit. Instead, she smiled at her. "Walk with me, Lady Drusilla? I believe I haven't gotten to know you very well." 

__

Walk with her? A soft voice at the back of her mind protested, but Drusilla decided to go ahead, anyway. It wouldn't be very polite to refuse. "Um…okay--I mean, all right." 

Endawyn waited for her to stand up before they started walking. Drusilla painfully noticed that the only sound in the peaceful forest was the crunching of her feet. Endawyn made no sound at all, as silent and graceful as a shadow. Embarrassment colored her cheeks slightly before she tried to lessen the weight of her footsteps. Honestly, the way she walked would've alerted a bunch of orcs to them now, Endawyn thought in mild annoyance. The more she knew the girl, the more she wondered. What, exactly, was it that made Haldir fall for her? What was it that she herself did not possess? She was perfect, the kind of Elf everyone wanted, and she knew it. And those clothes that little elf girl was wearing beneath that drab black coat…ugh. It was something Endawyn would not even deign to look at. 

The female elf tried not to grimace as the girl's awkward and loud movements sounded next to her. Honestly, did not her mother teach her basic manners? But then again, what with the black blood that ran in her veins, the girl was better off an Orc. The Valar had made a mistake by creating someone like her to be an Elf. In normal circumstances, Endawyn would not even think of looking for her, but this was far from normal. She would have her one true love back, or die trying. Haldir, for the past three days had been most distracted, and whenever they were out for a walk, he would make it a point to walk past the general area where Drusilla was living in. It was most irritating. 

__

I am superior to her, she thought to herself, her chin raised. She had not gone to Mirkwood to learn archery and swordplay for nothing. 

Breaking the silence, she asked. "Have you taken breakfast?" 

The girl looked mildly surprised at the question. "No. I'm not hungry." 

Sensing a chance, Endawyn smiled. "I was just preparing to have breakfast with Haldir. Would you like to come along?" 

She watched as the light in the girl's eyes dimmed slightly and blanched. "Oh…I'm really not hungry, you can go ahead if you like."

Drusilla watched as the Elf's face creased slightly in concern. "But it is not good for you not to eat anything, Lady Drusilla. If you are…embarrassed, don't be. Although Haldir and I often enjoy intimate meals together, I am very sure that he would not mind. Honestly." 

__

Intimate meals? The pang in her heart sharpened painfully. How intimate were they, really? Endawyn, for one, didn't seem to notice her reaction as her luminous eyes fluttered shut in what Drusilla recognized as bliss. "He is such a gentle lover, Lady Drusilla. Gentle yet passionate…" she paused carefully. "You do not mind if I confide in you?" 

That was the EXACT thing Drusilla did not want the Lady Endawyn to do. There was so much a girl could take, after all. She didn't even know this Elf, and yet she thought Drusilla was close enough to share those kind of secrets with her? And besides, whatever the two of them were up to, Drusilla sure as hell did not want to know. The less she knew, the better. Suspicious, Drusilla looked up to see that if it was some kind of malicious joke or something, but she only saw sincerity and hopefulness in those warm eyes. She immediately felt bad. Here Lady Endawyn was, trying to make friends with her, and all Drusilla could do was feel bitter. Of course, she figured that the Elf did not know what happened between Haldir and her, after all. Besides, someone as beautiful and all-knowing as Lady Endawyn was would be above petty feelings, right? She was an Elf, after all. 

Before Drusilla could think up of anything to say, Endawyn had taken her hand and smiled gently. "I've always wanted to make friends with you, Drusilla. It gets dreadfully lonely sometimes, without anyone to talk to. It feels so natural just speaking to you, like you are my equal…" she trailed off, her eyes downcast. _Her equal? _The younger Elf thought, stunned. This magnificent beauty…her equal? It was painfully ridiculous. But she looked so sad Drusilla felt almost sorry for her. She supposed being this wonderful had its drawbacks after all, and Drusilla had firsthand experience on what it felt like not to have friends, though her case was vastly different--it definitely wasn't beauty that set her apart from the others. But still, it was a dreadfully lonely existence. 

"I…I don't mind." Even as the words spilled out of her mouth Drusilla regretted it immensely. What had she gotten herself into? Endawyn beamed at her, letting go of her hand quickly. After all, her first objective had been accomplished; there was no more need to touch her longer than necessary. This girl was such a naïve lass. "Thank you, Drusilla! You have no idea how grateful I am. Matters of the heart are not easy burdens, after all. I am fortunate to have someone to share mine with." 

Drusilla looked mildly uncomfortable. "Well…" 

"I should go now," Endawyn cut in smoothly, slipping on another bright smile. "My love is waiting for me, after all. Would you mind terribly if we met for dinner? I would like to get to know you much better." 

__

Dinner? Drusilla wasn't sure if she would ever eat anything again, much less dinner. Right now she just felt like curling up and dying. _Oh Merlin, what have I done? _

****

Unbeknownst to Drusilla, the Fellowship had indeed arrived, weary and full of grief. Haldir had not gone for breakfast with Endawyn after all, as he and his company was supposed to patrol the borders, as the Lady Galadriel had foreseen that the Fellowship was coming, bringing a great evil into the sacred wood. Haldir had not been too happy about that prospect, but he knew better than to go against his sovereign's orders. Thankfully, she had not pried into his…personal matters. 

Maybe some help would be welcome, since his feelings were still mixed up, to his utmost displeasure. All he knew from the jumble was that the feelings he'd felt for Endawyn paled in comparison to the ones he felt for Drusilla. Did that mean anything? For all his wisdom, he had never been in love before, so what was 'being in love'? Deciding that that topic was best if it was never crossed, he decided to file it away and concentrate on the matter at hand. He would go and find Drusilla later. All he knew was that he wanted her more than anything. But now, he needed to guide the Fellowship.

Save for the extremely impolite, grubby dwarf, the others were passable….

All save for one. 

The hobbit named Frodo, the one who brought the great evil with him, worn in a chain around his neck.

For the last time, Haldir had tried to stop them from going deeper into the Wood and tainting the purity he held so dear for thousands of years, but it was all in vain. He had no other choice but to escort them there. The Elf Prince of Mirkwood was silent the entire way, deep in his grief. Well, he could somewhat understand that. Mithrandir was dead. By the time they reached, it was already close to evening; the Elven lights now illuminated the entire area. 

***

Drusilla cocked her head curiously to the side as she heard the heavenly voices of the Elves all around her. They were singing! It was indeed a wondrous sound, but…but why were they so sad? The melody was a haunting lilt that tugged at her heart, and briefly she wondered what that song was for. She could barely make out one or two words, and all she could get out of it was some kind of gray. And a pilgrim. Hermione had been off with Ron as usual, and Drusilla very much preferred to be alone after spending the whole day with her friends and exploring the area. Thankfully, she had not bumped into either Haldir or Endawyn, for which she would be eternally grateful. 

"Mithrandir is dead," a soft voice said behind her, and Drusilla spun around, startled. It was Endawyn, who had come up behind her. By Merlin, did those Elves have some kind of stealth device or something? How was it that she could sneak up on Drusilla without her noticing TWICE?? "Mith-who?" 

Maybe it was the light, but Drusilla thought, for a split-second, she saw a look of disdain cross Endawyn's eyes. But when she blinked again, it was gone. _Your eyes are playing tricks on you, Dru. _She shrugged it away nonetheless. 

"He was a great wizard. In the tongues of men, he is called Gandalf the Grey." She spoke softly, her voice clear as musical bells as the breeze blew at her softly, lending her an otherworldly air. Drusilla could see shimmering tears form in Endawyn's normally sparkling eyes. _He must've meant a lot to her,_ she thought. Although she didn't know who this…Gandalf the Grey is, or rather, was, from the sounds and looks of it, he must've been a powerful yet good person who made a huge difference in people's lives. It wasn't often that she heard Elves sing. Well actually, it was the first time she ever heard it, but still. The bittersweet strains almost brought tears to her eyes, and she didn't even KNOW who he was. 

A tear made its way down Endawyn's cheek, and Drusilla looked at her, alarmed. It was the first time she'd seen an Elf cry, and how the heck could she make it look so beautiful? When Drusilla cried it didn't even look that perfect. It was the whole disgusting affair; running nose, swollen eyes, shiny nose… And here Endawyn looked like an ice sculpture or something. "Endawyn, are you all right?" she asked, fumbling in her pocket to see if she had any handkerchief or something. The Elves here sure did not believe in the uses of tissue paper--they never even HEARD of it. 

"I am fine," she said softly, elegantly wiping away at the tear, only to be replaced by a few more. "It's just that…with Mithrandir's death and Haldir's disappearance…" 

__

Disappearance? Drusilla thought quizzically. 

Taking her silence in stride, Endawyn carried on, squeezing out a few more tears. After being told by Haldir that he would not be having breakfast with her, and seeing him look up almost wistfully at Drusilla's Valar-damned room once again, her jealousy knew no boundaries. Her childhood love was definitely besotted with that disgusting twit, and she had to find a way to make him stop thinking of her, because no matter how much she pried, he refused to say anything. 

Endawyn did not take kindly to losing, much less to an Elf with questionable loyalties and black blood. She did not trust Drusilla one bit. And she had come up with a wonderfully subtle plan. 

She continued, "Yes. I have lied to you, my friend. He has not been close to me since the day I returned. The passion we had was fading, and he…he has no longer…bedded me with the same fervor as he had many times before. I think he tires of me, like he does to all the women he has had." She let a few more tears spill and looked shattered. "He has found a new woman, I know it! I love him so much, Drusilla. And for him to just use me and throw me away like that…he wasn't around for breakfast this morning. I know he's with another! I just…I cannot take it…" 

Out of the corner of her eye, Endawyn saw the look of anger that crossed her features. Good. Her plan was working very well so far. Just a little more… "He has so many women before. He took what he wanted, and then he left them without a single thought. I-I thought that I could change him, since I knew him for so long…but now…it's happening to me….to me… What do I do?"

Endawyn saw Drusilla's jaw set, and her dark eyes flare with anger. She had been taken in just like that. She ducked her head lower to hide the smile she felt creeping over her face, and choked back a sob. She had to make this count. 

"He still loves you, Endawyn," Drusilla spoke at last, barely keeping her fists from clenching. How dare he? Was she, was Endawyn all just a simple game to him? 

__

He has so many women before. He took what he wanted, and then he left them without a single thought.

The terrible words resounded in her mind with alarming clarity. Was what he said he felt for her a lie? Was that…that kiss they shared a lie? Was… One look at Endawyn's shattered expression confirmed her worst fears. 

It was all a lie. Haldir was just a womanizing bastard. Where she once felt pain, now she simply felt anger. Anger…and betrayal. _He has so many women before. He took what he wanted, and then he left them without a single thought._

Without a single thought…

To him, Drusilla knew that right now she barely existed, and he was most likely on to other women. Had Haldir been cheating on her too when he--

__

No, Drusilla thought. _Because he has never accepted me in the first place. For there to be cheating, there would have to be an 'us' first. _

It hurt, but it was true. 

Endawyn was so in love with him, and Haldir had to go and fool around….

That was it. Drusilla had had enough. Enough moping. Enough hoping that he would turn up below her window and ask her to be his. Enough of the self-pitying drivel. 

It was time to teach that wanker a lesson. 

Both her lesson, and Endawyn's. 

Drusilla was a person who did not get angry easily, but this situation was really pushing it, and she had to do something about those bottled emotions before she exploded. 

***

After she and Endawyn parted ways, Drusilla decided to go and search for the jerk. She was on the warpath now, and nothing and no one was going to stop her from giving the Marchwarden of Lorien what he deserved. Storming through the forests, she caught no sight of him or his company anywhere. Even his brother Orophin had seemed to disappear. 

__

Where IS he? She wondered angrily, shoving through a clearing and glancing around. At least she could see exceptionally well in the dark to keep from running into trees. Making her way back to the lit areas that lay just a few feet away from her flet, she decided to ask one of the Elves. She didn't believe that none of them knew where he was. 

***

The stream bubbled quietly as Legolas, Elf Prince of Mirkwood and current member of the Fellowship, dipped his silver pitcher into the clear water, his mind not on the action. Rather, it was on one of his oldest and dearest friends, Gandalf. He was the wisest Maia ever to have existed, also the friendliest, although his temper needed a slight improvement. But for him to sacrifice himself to the Balrog like that… If only he was able to do something, anything instead of being paralyzed by fear, maybe, just maybe…

A sudden rustling of bushes caught his attention, and he stiffened, on the alert and wary. Lothlorien was supposed to be one of the safest places in Middle Earth, but ever since they set out from Rivendell, no place was really considered safe, and what with the darkness growing…

It was too soft to be an Orc, and judging from its distance, the rancid smell that was the foul creature's signature should have hit him by now. Instead, all he sensed was anger and something else he couldn't exactly identify. 

The Elf Prince turned around the same time a young Elf maiden stormed out of the underbrush, face flushed slightly. So surprised he was to see someone like her--Elves were supposed to be QUIET, after all--that he paused in what he was doing. She, too, stopped in her tracks. 

Drusilla couldn't believe her eyes. Standing right in front of her was a slender elf dressed in the most intricate of silvery blue tunics, holding a water pitcher. The gentle light bathed him it its glow, making his flaxen hair shimmer with an almost otherworldly quality. The Elf had well-defined features and one of the most piercing gazes she'd ever seen. But right now, all that annoyed her even more. 

__

Why do Elves have to look so darned beautiful all the time?! She thought in frustration. She hated feeling so self-conscious, but she just couldn't help it. Why did she even HAVE to be an Elf, of all things? She couldn't be more different from them!!

Not really caring about what that Elf was doing here, she marched straight up to him. "Where's the Marchwarden?" _To Hell with manners,_ she thought brusquely. Those stupid Elves were the ones who caused her so much trouble in the first place. 

The Elf frowned, half in confusion, half in displeasure. "I beg your pardon?" 

"The Marchwarden of Lorien. You know, the sodding one with the ego problem?" 

"I know not, Lady." 

"The Hell you don't," she snapped. "Don't lie to me, all right? I have to see him. _Now_."

Not know what this 'Hell' was, Legolas decided that it was something of a derogatory term, he narrowed his eyes at the insolent Elf. Didn't she know who he was? What was more, he really wasn't in the mood for this. His dear friend had just passed on and he needed a little time to himself. But then again, why would any young girl want to find Haldir of Lorien? "Find him somewhere else, Lady." But then again, why would any young girl want to find Haldir of Lorien? "Why do you want to see him for?"

"It's none of your business." She snapped coldly, crossing her arms over her chest. "Just tell me, is the git on patrol tonight?" 

"How am I supposed to know?" he asked, slightly annoyed now. What part of 'he didn't know' did she not get? 

"Because you look like one of his comrades?" she looked at him like he was stupid, which set his teeth on edge. By Valar, what was wrong with this Elf?? 

"I am not one of his comrades." He said coolly. 

"You're an Elf, and you're in Lothlorien, aren't you?" Drusilla exploded. She was getting nowhere here. "So tell me where the sodding jerk is!!" 

"You need a few lessons in manners, Lady," his voice turned cold as he started her down. Who was she to say something like this to him? Didn't she have any modicum of mannerism at all? 

"You can shove those darn manners where they belong," she retorted icily. "If you don't want to tell me, fine. I'll find the jerk myself!" 

Legolas watched as the incensed young Elf flounced away, annoyed and slightly mystified by what had just happened. An Elf girl who acted almost like a barbarian? 

The anger in her large brown eyes was palpable and she did have the most curious looking hair. Most Elves had hair that was long and straight, not in bouncing, well-defined ringlets. 

And then that voice. 

He'd never in his life heard a female Elf shouting, and especially not in a place like Lothlorien, and it surprised him. True, she was not beautiful. The truly picky might even say she was ugly, her mouth was slightly too small, and her features not as sharp, but she just had that…something about her. A certain kind of spark that intrigued him despite his grief. She was a pretty thing all right, in an unconventional way--at least to him--and although her earlier behavior was nothing short of barbaric and fitting only for a dwarf, he wondered who she was. 

"What happened?" Aragorn asked, making his way to his friend. He'd heard an argument shortly after speaking with Boromir, and had decided to come and check things out and see if everything was all right. 

"An uncouth Elf maiden happened, that was all." 

***

"Brother," Orophin walked towards where Haldir was testing out his arrows, his expression odd. "There is someone looking for you." 

Tucking the latest batch of arrows into his stock, the Marchwarden looked mildly quizzical. "Who is it?" 

"Lady Drusilla." He replied, noting the slightest of sparks that flitted across his brother's eyes momentarily. Strange. 

"What is she doing out this late at night?" Haldir asked, carefully masking the sudden, strange surge of pleasure that rose within him. He had been wanting to see her, and had planned to try to talk to her a little later. 

"I know not," Orophin shrugged slightly, then lowered his voice. "But she looks very angry." 

__

Angry? 

It was a stroke of luck that allowed her to chance upon Orophin while she was storming to her chambers, and she asked him to direct her to where Haldir was. She kept her temper in check this time, but only barely, because he had been nice to her. He bade her to wait for a moment before he disappeared into the woods. A part of her really wanted to follow him in there and find out what that jerk was doing, but she decided that she really didn't want to know. If he was with another female Elf…she really didn't know how she would react. 

A few moments later, there was the slightest of rustlings, and then a familiar voice. "Drusilla." 

His voice could still send tingles down her spine. She ignored the sudden fluttering of her stomach as she spun around to face the one Elf she had fallen in love with. He looked as exquisite as ever, in his forest garb and bow and arrows slung behind him, his eyes boring through hers. He didn't look guilty, only slightly puzzled. Well, as puzzled as the normally calm and cool Marchwarden would look, anyway. 

In that instant, she didn't know whether to slap him or run into his arms. She didn't know how much she missed him until then, but he had a lover now. Or rather, a lot of them. 

And none of them was her. 

Hardening, she tamped down the longing in her heart as she made her way towards him. Her heart was pounding and she was inwardly nervous, but her anger fueled her and gave her strength. She had had enough, and he was going to know that. 

When she next spoke, her voice was cold. "Haldir." 

He paused for a moment. Orophin was right, Drusilla was indeed angry. But with what? "What are you doing out here at this time? It is not safe--" 

"Don't tell me what to do, Haldir," she cut him off, her eyes blazing. "I don't need it." 

He narrowed his eyes slightly. No one had ever spoken to him like that. "You--" 

His words were cut off as a resounding smack echoed through the now-empty wood. A sharp sting flared on the side of his face, and he realized what she'd done. 

She had slapped him. 

"You are such an asshole, do you know that? Do you know how much Endawyn loves you?? And yet you go around behind her and CHEAT on her with other women! Do you know how shattered she is right now? Do you even have a heart?! I'm so sick of you stringing me along, you kiss me and yet you don't want to give me a definite answer, and I've had enough of your selfishness! Go back to Endawyn, all right? She loves you more than life itself!"

"What are you talking about?" he asked sharply. What on Middle Earth made her say something like that? It didn't make sense. 

She stared at him dead in the eye. "You hurt me once, Haldir of Lorien. Don't hurt Endawyn too. You two are meant to be together. Don't break it." 

With that, she turned on her heel and walked off, leaving a stunned Marchwarden in her wake. 

***

"You said _what?_" Hermione exclaimed the next morning, eyes as wide as dinner plates. Ron had frozen in mid-chew, and Harry's mouth hung open. The normally mild-tempered Drusilla, flying into a rage and hitting someone? Well, it seemed like the Haldir guy had deserved it, but…Drusilla??

Drusilla stared moodily at her plate. She really didn't know what came over her last night. It was always like that, when she got very angry, she did not know what she was doing. Or saying, for that matter. "I kind of don't remember….something along the lines of not cheating on Endawyn. Something like that." 

Ron looked almost delighted. "Give the blighter a mighty good smack, I'd say!" 

Hermione shot him a poisonous look across the table before turning her attentions back to her friend. Something seemed…off about the entire situation, and she wanted to know what it was. 

So far, she knew that Drusilla was besotted with the Marchwarden, and then came this Lady Endawyn, as nice as she was. And later Lady Endawyn wanted to become the best of friends with Drusilla…and suddenly she realized it. 

"Dru," she said suddenly, her eyes serious. "You're upset because he had a lover and he didn't tell you, aren't you?"

"What?" 

"And when Lady Endawyn confided in you, you were feeling guilty because one of the people this guy 'fooled around' with happened to be you, too. And then you confronted him with all those emotions running--" 

"Maybe you shouldn't be so…exact, 'Mione." Harry spoke up hurriedly, shooting a suddenly pale Drusilla a worried look. Hermione was right; it showed on Dru's face. 

"Oh," Hermione realized her error; she'd been so caught up in her theory that she'd forgotten about her feelings in the matter. "I'm sorry, Dru. I--" 

"It's all right," Drusilla said quickly, forcing a smile. She herself didn't even know she felt that way until Hermione had mentioned it, and it was quite…refreshing. Now all she had to do was try her hardest to avoid Endawyn and Haldir for the rest of her stay here, until whatever-it-was was complete. "I think I'll be going for a walk, anyway. It's a beautiful day out. I'll be near the river if you want to find me." 

Without waiting for either of them to reply, she pushed back her chair and headed out.

The beginning of the love triangle is already in place, and what will happen then? Will Haldir throw away his pride and fight for the one he loves? Will that idiot even KNOW? All in the next update, so check back, people, and leave reviews! Ciao! 

***

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AN: And no, before you misunderstand, Drusilla is NOT a Mary Sue. Her inherent trust in people is her greatest failing, and she's too pigheaded to know about it. Also, I don't really want any of you guys to hate Endawyn. I mean, you're in love with this guy for thousands of years and you believe that he's in love with you, and when you finally return, you don't get the welcoming you're expecting? It wrecks havoc with a girl's behavior, I tell ya. 

Now, let me thank all my wonderful reviewers, you were the ones who made me want to continue: 

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Vision of Escaflowne: Yep, you see Leggy boy here, haha. 

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Carlye: Nope, Fontaine is the father's last name. Drusilla's father's first name is Samuel

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Lady of Dragons: Hey! The update's here at last! J And thanks for the review!

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Lily811: Yep, I'll be updating on a regular basis now, not like last time. Ugh, I disgust myself with my lack of discipline. 

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Ridea: Read your heart out, girl. Leggy boy's here!

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The_earth_guide: I find the lack of…shall we say, personality behind characters really annoying, so I like fleshing 'em out as life-like as possible so people can relate to them, meaning there is no evil and no good when it comes to relationships, lol. All's fair in love and war. 

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Charlotte: Hmm, that really leaves a lot to be seen…Legolas or Haldir? 

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Kendra: LOL, hate me all you want, chica. And nah, don't hate Endawyn. She's just…different. 

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Elf_princess777: Thanks a lot, and here's hoping that like this story, your relationship will have a happy ending, lol. 

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Astronema: *evil laugh* Letting Ron have it, eh? He's gonna get his arse kicked one of these days, I tell ya!

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Velaineil: Whoa there, girl! I get the idea already, haha. It's so good to be loved. Hmm, don't kill Haldir, eh? I don't even know how's its gonna be yet, though. Stupid me. And gosh, thanks for your wonderful half a page review! It's made me sufficiently believe that I WILL NOT kill Haldir. What do you people think? 

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Princessarcher: Thanks for the review, and yeah, Haldir is gonna be taught a few lessons…he's an arrogant git, isn't he? 

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Diadora: Of course it's still running! And yep, I'm gonna keep updating with regularity, as long as I see a rise in reviews, haha. It's so discouraging when no one bothers to review and tell you what they think…

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Doodlebug: Yep, it's all fixed. Sorry for the late reply… J 


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